"Content thyself, Kyste; it will be a livelihood, nevertheless," interrupted Pallé. "But if thy new masters side with the archbishop I cannot imagine what the devil they want here--the junker and the archbishop agree together like cat and dog."
"As I said, that's the great folks' business," answered the deserter. "What they have plotted with the archbishop at Hammershuus I can't tell; but could they patch up an agreement for the junker with Master Grand, and get the ban done away, he would have nought against it, I trow; and one service is as good as the other. If the junker gets into a scrape with the king, he will need a prop; and if the king goes to the wall, the junker perhaps will get uppermost, and may help his friends again. But that concerns not me; matters may turn out as the foul fiend pleases for aught I care, so long as there are good oars to be had, and something to lay one's hands on. But what was that noise? Heard ye not horses tramp on the other side of the castle?"
"Dream'st thou, Kyste? Who would visit the castle so late?" said Pallé, listening anxiously.
"Here I have my masters. Now any one may come that Satan pleases," said the deserter, and ran towards the vessel.
Two tall men, in ample grey mantles, and with hoods over their heads, accompanied by a little hump-backed personage, in a red cloak, came forth from a secret door in the castle wall, and passed over a small drawbridge which was let down over the outer castle moat. They hasted down to the quay, where they greeted Sir Pallé by a silent nod, and, without uttering a word, entered the vessel, which instantly pushed off from the shore, and set sail. Sir Pallé shook his head thoughtfully, and looked after them as he listened, and thought he heard a distant noise of arms and horses' hoofs without the castle gate. He hasted over the small drawbridge before which he had stood on guard, and drew it up hastily behind him. He then passed quickly through the private door into the castle.
On the opposite side of the outer fortification stood Drost Aagé with his horsemen, who, according to his orders, had led their horses slowly, and one at a time, over the half-completed drawbridge, which as yet could not be drawn up. The strongly secured castle gate was shut, and they had knocked several times, apparently without being heard by any one. "Who is there?" at last said a drowsy voice from the battlement over the gate. It was the watchman or warder of the castle, who now stood up, with a long spear in the one hand, and an alarm horn in the other.
"Sleep'st thou at thy post, watch?" called Aagé, in a stern tone; "seest thou not it is the king's men who would enter? Haste! let the porter open to us instantly.--This is the new garrison."
"New garrison! That know we nought of here," muttered the warder. "I shall have to blow the horn, then, as the junker hath commanded."
"A single sound costs thee thy life, fellow!" menaced the Drost. "Where the king himself commands no junker hath a word to say."
"The Lord bless you, if that be true, noble sir!" said the warder, joyfully; "I shall then not have to ride the wooden horse to-morrow because I slept?"