"But, since you side with the king in every thing, master," asked the youth, "how can you then defend mad Morten the cook, or think he will 'scape the gallows? He hath ever sided with the outlaws. That he helped the bishop out of Sjöborg you know as well as any of us. I saw he was with you on Christmas eve, ere he put out to sea again in that black pilgrim ship."
"If thou would'st keep in a whole skin, jackanapes, let that be between us two," exclaimed the old man, in wrath, turning menacingly towards him. "However Morten may have sinned, he now doth penance for it; he who puts out to open sea at Christmas, to serve his Lord and Saviour, is no bad Christian, according to my notion, and therefore no traitor to his country."
"But every one knows----"
"Gossip! we know enough! What Morten hath to do either with the bishop or the outlaws concerns not thee or me; but this I know for certain, since he hath seen our young king himself, and taken money at his hand, he hath been true as steel to him in his heart. That Master Grand got loose was perhaps a God's providence," he added. "In this matter I even think myself our brave king hath set rather too boldly to work. If Morten hath had a finger in the game it may cost him dear; but that he neither meant ill to country or king I will stake my neck upon."
"A juggler and a godless churl he is, nevertheless; and an outlawed vagabond and sure gallows bird to boot, if he sets foot again on Danish ground," said the young fisherman, eagerly. "'Tis both sin and shame, master! that your young pretty Karen will weep her blue eyes red for his sake."
"Ha, indeed! hath that come out?" said the old man; "thou would'st rather, I warrant, she should weep them red for thy sake, if weep she must. Drive these fancies out of thine head, Olé! If Morten come back ere St. Hans day, as he promised Karen and me, and can give account of himself, thou shalt have leave to dance at his wedding; but if ye would speak ill of him to me or to Karen, thou may'st pack up and pack off. Now thou knowest my manner of thinking." So saying, the old man marched forward with rapid strides. The youth followed him, crest-fallen and in silence, till they drew near the shore, where Jeppé unmoored a fishing boat for the purpose of sailing up the coast with the fish he could no longer dispose of at Sjöborg.
"You must not suppose I would speak ill of Morten," resumed the young fisherman, as he set down the basket in the boat, and stepped over the gunwale after his master. "'Twould be of no use either; you and Karen are now so bewitched by that gallows bird. I must own myself he is a comely, sharp-witted jolly fellow, although he begins to get somewhat into years; indeed, as for that matter he might almost be her father. If he helped the bishop to flee out of piety and Christian charity, he hath perhaps done a good deed, but folk will hardly say it was for the Lord's sake. Your pretty little Karen would be better mated with a young fellow than with an outlawed and almost aged vagabond, and--"
"Thou beardless greenhorn! what is thy head running upon?" exclaimed the old man angrily, and stamping as he spoke. "Think'st thou it needs but a smooth chin, and a milk-sop look, to cut out an honest fellow with my daughter? Out of sight out of mind, say many young folk now-a-days; but that shall none say of me and my daughter. If I hear a word more of this matter from thy mouth, Olé! it shall be the last we exchange together. But what devil is this?" he exclaimed, in surprise, as he perceived there were three in the boat; "whence came that fellow?"
"Will you carry a passenger across to Skanór, for fair words and fair recompense, good people?" asked a tall man, suddenly rising from under one of the rowing benches, where he appeared to have concealed himself under the sail. He wore a dirty peasant's cloak, but it fitted ill, and a knight's shoulder scarf peeped from under it, together with the richly gilded hilt of a sword. He seemed to strive in vain to conceal a large scar on his forehead under the goat's-skin cap; his pale and frigid countenance, and furtive glances from under his rusty-coloured meeting eyebrows, inspired a feeling of distrust; he spoke Danish, but with something of a Norwegian pronunciation, which, however, seemed not to be natural to him, but assumed for the occasion.
"What have you to do here in my boat?" growled forth Jeppé, measuring the intruder with a bold look. "If you would cross to Skanör, why go ye not to the ferry?"