The unhappy house-mother heard this account, with emotions that betrayed a momentary gladness. She arose, but, without saying a word, again seated herself, with a deep sigh.
In the large riddersal of Möllerup, thirteen grave strangers awaited the arrival of the master of the castle. They were seated at a long oaken table, which stood in the middle of the hall, covered with black cloth. Eighteen chairs stood around the table. One of these chairs was higher than the rest, and covered with red velvet: it was vacant. That on the left side of it was also vacant; but on the right sat the heavy Count Jacob of Halland, with his legs stretched out, and drumming on the table with his fingers. Between him and his brother, Niels Hallandsfar, who resembled him in manner and disposition, sat the notable dean, Master Jens Grand, regarding, with a grave and scrutinising look, the assembled personages, most of whom were his kinsmen, and as proud as himself of belonging to the great family of the Absaloms. He appeared particularly gratified at seeing four knights, whose dark visages and haughty mien indicated displeasure and resoluteness for revenge. These were Sir Jacob Blaafod, Arved Bengtson, Peder Jacobsen, and Niels Knudson of Scania, who had all distinguished themselves, under Stig Andersen and Count Jacob, in the Swedish war, but had, along with their general, fallen into disgrace for their arbitrary proceedings in dethroning the previous Swedish king.
The dean had, opposite to him, a smart young gentleman, with a proud but lively and frivolous countenance: this was Duke Waldemar's drost, and fellow-prisoner in Sjöborg, Sir Tuko Abildgaard. Next to him sat a personage who had long been regarded as one of the king's true men--Chamberlain Ové Dyré: he, and the man by his side, Peder Porsé, had recently come to an open rupture with the king, on account of a debt which the latter would not acknowledge; and in consequence of this quarrel, they had taken refuge with King Magnus in Sweden.
All these gentlemen the dean seemed to observe with satisfaction. A noble old squire, Aagé Kaggé, who had long vainly expected the honour of knighthood from the king, the dean likewise appeared to regard with confidence and pleasure; but he cast a doubtful glance at the tall, overgrown person by his side, whose crafty countenance wore a smile of self-satisfaction, while he seemed to fancy himself a man of considerable importance in this secret council. This was the king's double-minded, cunning counsellor, Chamberlain Rané.
In the midst of the company, with an air of boorish pride, sat a short, coarse, splendidly dressed personage, with diamonds on the hilt of his dagger, and a gold chain about his animal-looking neck. His countenance was fierce, rough, and hideous, and he seemed to be tired of the long silence. This was the Norwegian freebooter chief, Jarl Mindre-Alf.
"Now, by Satan! how long will it be ere they get off their horses?" he at length growled forth, breaking the silence. "They must first in, and comfort the women, we shall find. I have ridden three beasts to death to be in time, and yet I have to wait. My time is precious, but here have I now been sitting for half an hour, like an empty barrel, without tasting either wet or dry. I have only three words to tell you from my good king, ye worthy gentlemen, but they are worth gold: if you keep me much longer, I must ride my own way, with the devil's help; and then, we shall see what comes of all your whispering and sour mouths."
"Highborn sir jarl," replied Master Grand, hastily, "after such a hurried journey, you must needs require a heart-strengthening, before you can think of more grave affairs. Please to follow me into the next apartment: there we shall find a magnificent gammon, and excellent old wine, which you have scarcely found a match for in any of our convents."
"Ha, I can understand that!" growled the heavy gentleman, rising "You are a man who understands both body and soul: you know what an honest sea-dog stands in need of, on the cursed land. A house without a host, or wine, or women, the devil may set foot into! Come, then. But it must only be a slight strengthener," he added, thoughtfully: "if I set myself regularly down to the drinking-board, you will scarcely get a word out of me concerning these vile land-crab affairs."
Master Grand took him hastily by the arm, and led him out of the riddersal.
"By St. Canute! I think I shall go too," said Count Jacob, rising: "my good comrade the marsk does not remember whom he has invited as guests."