since thou art come to thy senses again, Morten, I will even take thee again into service. In the day thou may'st be needed in the kitchen, and in the night--well, we can talk of that afterwards. Old Mads the turnkey is good for nothing; he hath now got his nephews to help him, and I count not on them either; and those foolish men-at-arms are afraid of being excommunicated or bewitched."

"If I can help you with the night watch that shan't stand in _my_ way,"

said Morten; "whatsoever I can do to plague and anger the bishop I do with hearty good will. I would only counsel you not to set me to watch in his chamber, for if St. Vitus's dance come over me I were in a case to dance to the devil with him. It is a kind of cramp, you must know, and I might easily squeeze the life out of whomsoever I get hold of."

"Well, well, Morten; there is no need for that. Thou art now perfectly well and reasonable," muttered the keeper, with a grisly smile. "I must have some one to help me, or I shall go mad myself. One misfortune follows another. The king is a violent man, and the junker has no great weight with him. It is an easy thing to get into trouble when one has a devil to watch, and stern masters to account to. Now comes that confounded report of the vessel at Gilleleie, which plys to and fro to help the bishop to flight."

Morten turned quite pale. "Our Lady preserve us!--say they so?" he exclaimed, hastily; "then, by my troth, master, there _is_ need of watchfulness; yet it is just as dangerous to loose as to tie a mad dog."

"It will cost me my life if he escapes, Morten. I have the king's own most gracious word for it. I never let the prison keys out of my hand.

The king's people are on guard, but I dare not trust them. I carry my life in my hands. I will now depend upon thee. Come!" So saying, the agitated steward took Morten by the arm, and led him across the yard towards the kitchen. It was a fine clear winter's morning. It had frozen so hard during the last few nights that a part of Sjoborg lake was covered with tolerably hard ice. As the steward and the cook crossed the castle yard they saw all the king's huntsmen, with horses and hunting equipments, waiting before the castle stairs, and the royal car drove up. "What is agog now?" asked the steward.

"We are off with the king to the chase at Tikjob," answered one of the hunters. "The great lord from Italy wants to go to Esrom. He will surely either ride, or be borne on our shoulders."

"When come ye back?" asked the steward.

"Faith, I know not," answered the huntsman. "To-morrow we shall have to go with the king to Esrom. There is a great council to be held there, they say."

"Then it surely concerns the life or death of him yonder," muttered the steward, pointing to the prison tower. Morten the cook became attentive, and stopped; but he soon hasted towards the kitchen door, where he stood, half concealed, as the door of the castle stairs opened, and the king and Prince Christopher came forth, and mounted their horses, together with the Marsk, the two Swedish lords, and a numerous company of knights. The king and his train halted, and when Cardinal Isarnus, with his famulus and his clerical train, also descended the stairs, the huntsmen and attendants bowed low whilst they took their seats in the royal car. The train, headed by the king and Count Henrik, then issued forth out of the castle gate, amid the joyous sound of the hunting horns. Morten continued standing by the kitchen door. He had gazed on the young chivalrous monarch with a mingled feeling of fear and admiring interest, and a secret struggle seemed pa.s.sing in his mind, as his glance turned from the n.o.ble and kingly form which had just pa.s.sed him, to the gloomy prison window from whence he thought he heard a distant and smothered sigh. The steward had already twice called to him without his hearing; he now called again, with a round oath. The cook hastily pa.s.sed his hand over his face, and struck up, in a shrill voice, one of his merriest ballads, as, with jest and laughter, he joined the domestics in the kitchen. During the rest of the day a monastic stillness reigned in Sjoborg castle. When the evening closed in the steward appeared unusually friendly and confidential, and treated his cook to a flagon of good wine from the king's travelling store. Before he sat down at the drinking table he had convinced himself with his own eyes that his dangerous state prisoner was under close keeping, and that the old turnkey and his comrade, as well as the guard without the prison-door, were at their posts. When he had fortified himself with some cups of wine, he began to unburden his heart to the cook. "I am an unfortunate man," he sighed forth. "I have not closed my eyes to sleep these three nights. Each time I shut an eye it seems to me the bishop hath fled, and I am dangling from the gallows. It hath not fared much better with the king himself," he continued; "if he now condemns him to death, despite pope and clergy, he and the whole kingdom fall into trouble. If he lets him slip hence alive, matters are just as bad. I once dreamed the bishop had hung himself in his chains. Oh! would it had pleased the Lord it had been so indeed!"

"A pious wish," answered Morten. "I would willingly lend a helping hand towards the fulfilment of that dream; of course, master, I mean in all pious secrecy; and I blame you not for this. In your case it would be almost a necessary act of self-defence, and, at the same time, a good deed for king and country. Is it not so?"

"Art thou mad, Morten! it might cost me my neck," muttered the steward; "for ought I care he may hang himself, in the Lord's name, whenever he pleases, if I only know nothing of it. If any good friend would lend him a helping hand, it might indeed, as thou say'st, save king and country, and deserve a rich and royal recompence; but I may thank my Lord and Maker if I can save my own life. Had I but a faithful fellow who durst watch in the chamber with him to-night I should sleep in quiet. Hast thou not courage enough for that, Morten?"

"Oh yes; why should I not, if I get well paid for it? If he gives me any trouble, it were an easy matter to make away with him, without any one seeing or knowing aught about it."

"Art thou serious, Morten? Hast thou really courage to----"

"To make an end of him, master?"

"Hush! No; I say not that. St. Gertrude preserve me from tempting any one to do that deed, even though it might be a benefit to state and country, and might make a poor fellow happy for life. No; that was not my meaning. Darest thou let me shut thee up with him to-night?"

"Yes, on one condition, master."

"What is it?"

"That you will not be wroth and complain of me if perchance you were not to find us to-morrow morning in the same trim as to-night."

"Pshaw, Morten; it matters not to me in what trim I find you. I will pay ten silver pieces for every night you watch beside him, and a hundred for the LAST."

"But even were that pious lord, through his witchcraft, to get loose after a fashion, I should surely get the blame of having let him slip."

"Ha, ha! thou art a merry wag, Morten," muttered the steward, with a horrible laugh. "The liberty thou canst give him, when I have locked the door after thee, shall not disturb my night's rest. Of course," he continued, with an uneasy and inquiring look, "thou must first let me search thy garments, to see that thou has not a file or any other tool with thee; that is a precaution I have ever used when I let any one watch with him in the chamber."

"That is but reasonable. You are a conscientious man." So saying, Morten pulled off his jerkin, and turned his pockets inside out. "But now I think of it, master, it won't do after all. If St. Vitus's dance should come over me."

"Pshaw! thou art quite well and hearty."

"But I am too hot-headed, master; and the bishop is wrath with me from former times. I have now and then plagued him a little, as you know, and should he take it into his head to insult me, or get hold of me, and I were forced to defend myself, it might cause a little stir, and set the guard and the whole castle agog."

"That needs not be. Thou art a bold fellow, Morten. Come! The guard shall not stand too near the door, and disturb thine and the bishop's rest, and shouldst thou get into a dispute with him about the state of souls after death, or such like learned matters, lay folks shall not be the wiser for that. Drink a cup of wine to a good night, and then let's away. I want rest, and so doth the bishop. It is late." Morten nodded, and drank.

With a horrible smile on his coa.r.s.e hypocritical countenance, Jesper Mogensen s.n.a.t.c.hed up a lantern, and descended the staircase leading to the prison door, accompanied by the cook. He paused once or twice with uneasiness and suspicion, and held up the light towards Morten, who followed him with a cheerful countenance.

"Thou look'st as well pleased as if I were leading thee to a jolly night revel," he muttered; "go on before. I cannot endure that rustling behind me."

Morten obeyed, and a.s.sumed a thoughtful look.

"Let not the guard smell a rat," he whispered, and pointed to a cord which was twisted round his waist. The keeper nodded, and seemed rea.s.sured. He ordered the guard to move further from the door, which he then half opened, and peeped in, holding the lantern before him. As soon as he had seen the captive lying quietly with his hands fettered, he pushed Morten into the chamber.

"A good and _quiet_ night," he said, with a grim smile, clapping to and locking the door behind him; he also carefully barred it without, and then descended the stairs. The nearest sentinel observed that he often looked timorously behind him, as if his own footsteps sounded suspiciously in his ear. "The stupid devil!" he muttered. "What he doth he shall himself answer for; it is no concern of mine."

When Morten entered the murky prison, he stood in silence, until the sound of the locking and bolting of the door had ceased, and until the hollow tread of the steward's iron-shod boots died away on the stairs; he then approached the captive's couch, and was about to speak, but he now heard singing and loud voices in the upper chamber. It was old Mads the turnkey making merry with his nephews and the young fellows from the village who were to keep watch with him. Morten listened in silence. He perceived from their inarticulate voices and drowsy songs, that the mead and Saxon ale he had secretly brought them had been greatly to their taste. Through a little hole in the ceiling above there fell a ray of light from their lamp upon the archbishop's couch, and lit up his long pale visage. He lay with closed eyes without stirring, apparently in a sound sleep. Morten seated himself upon the damp stone floor, and interrupted not his repose until the noise of the carouse had entirely ceased, and he heard in the stillness of the night how they were snoring overhead. "Sleep you, venerable sir?" he whispered, as he rose up from the floor.

"No, thou faithful servant of the Lord!" answered the archbishop, in a weak voice, and raised his head. "I and the Lord's vengeance do but _seem_ to sleep, until it is time to wake and act."

"Now is the time to show clean heels," continued Morten. "Is all ready here?"

"Long since. Thou hast tarried long; yet even that was an ordering of the Lord. I was destined even in my chains to become a chastising rod in the Lord's hand; but I was well nigh believing thou had'st failed me, or wert betrayed."

"You thought, then, I was either a fox or a sheep, reverend sir. Have you the rope ladder?"

"Here--but be cautious, Morten. Tie it to the thickest bar in the grate; that is secure. Take the others out; they are filed through--but make no noise! I can rid myself of the fetters. Thy file was blunt, but the Lord sharpened it in my hand. His angel hath struck mine enemies both deaf and blind."

"But now comes the _knotty_ point, pious sir," whispered Morten, as he lingered, with an ambiguous smile. "Now all depends upon whether the Lord's angel will help you still farther. Up to the window he hath indeed taught you to creep, but we have to descend thirty-six feet from thence to the tower wall, and then we still have that confounded castle wall besides. Over the moat and lake the Lord hath indeed laid a bridge. See you this cord? Were I now to strangle you with it I might perhaps make my fortune; but I am too pious a fellow for that. I will but fasten it to the slip knot, that we may be able to draw the ladder after us. I will go down first to aid you. Look now. I will answer for the ladder, if you can but keep your hold, till I can reach you from below. But----"

"With the Lord Almighty's help"--whispered Grand, in an anxious tone, and looking at the jolly cook, with a half suspicious glance--"a.s.sist me first up to the window, I am weary and weak. Now, what art thou thinking of, Morten? Haste, or we are betrayed."

"A little scruple has just entered my head, venerable sir," whispered Morten. "I am a good Christian, and I know well enough both you and the pope have my soul and the souls of all Christians in your pockets. You have saved my life, do you see, and therefore have I promised to free you, whatever it may cost; but I am also a Danish man, and you cannot ask that, for your sake, I should betray state and kingdom, or plunge our young brave king into misfortune. Had I seen _him_ sooner, and known he was so n.o.ble a lord, I might perhaps have thought better on what I promised _you_. I know you have excommunicated him, and given him over to the Devil, but by my soul he is too good for that, and if I am now to set you free you must promise me, by our Lady and St. Martin, that you will recall the ban, and do no harm to him or any other man in the country."

"Dost thou rave, Morten?" exclaimed the archbishop, greatly surprised and enraged; "would'st thou ape the tyrant, and prescribe conditions to me? If thou doest not that thou promised me, I will excommunicate thee also, and thou shalt be eternally d.a.m.ned."

"In that case, reverend sir," whispered Morten, hastily creeping out of the window to the rope ladder, with the loose end of the cord in his hand, with which he could slip the looped knot that fastened the ladder,--"In that case I will bid you good night, and take the ladder with me to h.e.l.l."

"Morten! good Morten! betray me not," whispered the archbishop, in a beseeching tone, climbing with haste up to the window. "I will not deal harder by the king or any one here than I am compelled for the Lord's and the church's and my conscience sake."

"Then will you loose him from the ban as soon as you are free and in safety yourself?" asked Morten, still keeping his stand on the ladder.

"Yes, surely; yes, surely; only be silent, and help me."

"Then I will believe you for the present," whispered Morten, and crept down the ladder. Its last step was still ten feet from the ground, but the dexterous cook clung fast to it with his hands, and jumped down without any great difficulty. The archbishop had now also got out of the window, and with much effort held fast by one step, while he groped with his foot for the other. But on lifting his foot from the last step, to his great dismay he discovered that the ladder was much too short, and that in all probability his life would be endangered should he come to the ground without a.s.sistance.

"Help me, help me, Morten!" he entreated in a low tone. "In the name of the all-merciful Creator, help me!"

"Yes, if you swear to keep your word, on pain of excommunicating yourself to burning h.e.l.l, venerable sir," answered Morten, extending his arms to catch him in case he fell.

"Yes, a.s.suredly, by all the saints and devils!" stammered the alarmed captive; "only catch me; I must let go my hold!"

"Let go then! in the Holy Virgin's name!" whispered Morten; "if you are a pious man of your word you shall a.s.suredly not dash your foot against a stone."