In a little lonely forest-house, in the neighbourhood of Finnerup, stood, at about the same hour of the evening, Claus Skirmen, with his squire's cap in his hand. Before him were old Henner Friser and Aasé. The powerful, gigantic old man seemed to have prepared himself for the worst. He stood, leaning on a long javelin, in his Frisian war-suit of leathern mail, with his seal-skin cap drawn over his straggling gray hairs. The pretty little Aasé appeared occupied with far more peaceful thoughts. She wore the same dark blue jacket, plaited kirtle, and light blue apron, in which Skirmen had first seen her, when he assisted in liberating her from Hegness. She held him familiarly by the hand, and bent on him tenderly her dark playful eyes, whilst he, half ashamed, seemed to expect some important reply from old Henner.
"Thanks for thy warning, brave youth," said the latter, shaking Skirmen heartily by the hand. "It is well thou camest so early, to assist us with our slender preparations for defence. Our persecutors may now come when they will: none shall see us longer than we ourselves list. If thy account be true--and I do not take thee for a braggart--thou art a smart youth--the affair of the robbers was no jesting matter. If thou goest on thus, and thy master, with a good conscience, can hereafter give thee the stroke of knighthood, I have no objection that my little Aasé should love thee, and thou her. But when we meet again, we shall talk more of it."
Skirmen and Aasé embraced each other with transport, and hugged the old man with the utmost joy.
"Good, good, my children. God and St. Christian bless ye!" continued old Henner, with emotion. "But this is not the time to prattle and think of love. Thou must off, Skirmen, and inform thy master of what we know."
"I have done so already," replied Skirmen: "what the Rypen burghers said in the tavern, he knows; but he does not think it has any great meaning."
"Tell him, then, from me," said the old man, "that it certainly means no less than folks say the three suns portend which we saw in the heavens on St. Remy's day. It was the day before the feast of All Saints, and the learned clerks speak much of a heathen goddess of revenge that used to be worshipped on that day. Our Lord knows the witch, and I am not skilled in the signs of the sun and moon; but this I know, that when disaffected knights creep about in monks' cowls, it is for no good or holy purpose. So beg thy master, first and foremost, to take care of himself and the king, as he passes the barn of Finnerup. And now away! Give him a kiss, Aasé, and let him run. Thy norback, Skirmen, is more zealous than thyself in the king's service. Hearest thou not how impatiently he neighs?"
"Farewell, father Henner--farewell, dear Aasé!" exclaimed Skirmen, hastily. "But be cautious, Aasé! If thou passest for an elf, be as cunning as one; and, for God's sake, disappear as soon as you observe any mischief."
"Take care, my young knight, that I am not an elf in reality!" cried Aasé, playfully, as she embraced him. "Seest thou not my blue kirtle, and brown two-peaked hood? Ay, right! look in my eyes and not to my back, for I am as hollow there as a dough-trough.[[32]] Away, now--out with thee! save thy king and master, or thou deservest never to be a knight, and I will have nothing more to say to thee."
Skirmen embraced her hastily, and hurried out, accompanied by his sweetheart and the old man. Shortly afterwards he was riding through the wood at a gallop, and Henner Friser re-entered the cottage with his granddaughter. Neither of them spoke. He barred the door, cast his spear into a corner, and sat down musingly on his rush-cushioned seat. Aasé took her distaff, and sat down to work by the window, for the interior of the room was now quite dark.
"Light the lamp, Aasé," said the old man, at length, breaking the silence, and rising with uneasiness. "It is still too early to go to rest in the hole inside, and thou knowest I cannot bear to sit in the dark."