It still wanted an hour of daybreak when the convent porter bent over the pallet where Wulf lay and shook the boy into wakefulness.
“Thou’rt to get up, lad,” he said, with gruff kindness. “Eat this and make thyself ready to go an errand. When thou’rt ready, go to the lady superior in her audience-room.”
He put some bread and meat and a tankard of beer upon the floor, and left Wulf to awaken more fully and make such preparation as he had need of.
Mother Ursula and the emperor were still talking when Wulf, having knocked at the door of the little reception-room, answered the former’s call to enter. To all appearance neither had taken any rest since Wulf had last seen them, and so eagerly was the emperor talking that neither paid any heed to the boy as he stood waiting their pleasure.
“He was known to have ridden hither,” Rudolf was saying, “and to have brought the boy. He was minded to leave him with you, my lady, against his going again to Jerusalem; but no word ever came from either. But gladly would I lay down the crown that is proving over-burdensome to my poor head, to set eyes upon the face of either.”
The emperor paced the floor sadly, his stern, homely face drawn by emotion.
“He would have sought out Karl, had he known,” Rudolf went on. “I must see the man. Ah, here is the boy!”
He turned, seeing the boy, who advanced and did knee-service.
“So,” the emperor said, “we are going to use thy stout legs, boy. Make thou their best speed to thy grandsire, and tell him that Count Rudolf rides to the Swartzburg and would have him at hand. Canst do that?”
“Ay, Sire.”