"You are right, Drost Peter," replied Thorstenson, cooling: "the girl was worthy of a better husband, and should surely have had a better father. Let her fly, then, the bold rock-bird! She may yet make a hero, or at least a wily pirate, of our vile knight. But--death and destruction!--had I known she was the algrev's daughter--"
"Even then, you would have respectfully kissed her hand, David Barmhead!" interrupted the drost, smiling.
"The horses are ready, sir drost," cried Skirmen at the door.
Drost Peter took a hurried leave of the brave governor of Rypen House, and left the castle; having first prudently put on a light breastplate under his travelling-cloak. He rode off rapidly, followed by Skirmen, along Green-street to the Market-place, without noticing the noisy merriment of the burghers. In Merchant-street the crowds had dispersed, and Skirmen observed several dark figures stealing about, coffin-bearers apparently of the order of the Dominicans, having hoods with large eyeholes over their faces; although, from their suspicious movements and long strides, they more resembled disguised soldiers. The trusty squire directed the attention of his master to these men, who appeared to be closely watching him.
"Coffin-bearers, about to carry a body somewhere," observed the drost: "what is remarkable in that?"
"It depends on what kind of body they are to carry," returned Skirmen; "and whether it is not the first they meet."
The suspicious hoods disappeared, however, at the corner of Ship-street, and Drost Peter rode over the bridge to the Middle-dam.
"What ails thee, Skirmen?" he inquired, stopping his horse in a by-street. "Since yesterday, methinks thou hast laid thy valour aside. Thou wert quite another carl when the robbers were seized by thee in Daugberg quarry. Now, however, I see thou hast got a sweetheart in thy head; and hast forgotten that the gold spurs are not to be won by timidity and weakness."
Skirmen felt his cheeks tingle. "Had you not taken me for a timid fool on the morning that we rode to Harrestrup, and had you not supposed the grayfriar cloaks covered honest men," he replied, suppressing his emotion, "then, perhaps, stern sir, had King Erik Christopherson last year given me the stroke of knighthood, as on that evening you bade me hope he would. I would then rather have received it from your hand," he added, with a trembling voice; "but, if now you consider me a timid coward, because I fear for your life, I desire nothing more than to remain your trusty squire while I live. Warn you I must, however; for I would rather go with silver spurs to my grave, than with gold ones follow you to your's."
"My faithful Skirmen!" exclaimed the drost, much affected, as he extended his hand to him, "I know it well: thou art more concerned for my life than for thine own. But I am not an outlaw: I am here, well armed, on the king's errand, and every cowl-cloak we see does not conceal a traitor."