This was the first occasion on which any deviation had been made from that mournful silence which, since the death of King Erik Christopherson, had uniformly prevailed at court. And, even now, the feast was in nowise noisy: neither song, nor music, nor loud-voiced joy was heard; and, as soon as the table was removed, the company separated.
The duke retired to the wing of the castle he usually occupied during the Dane-court. Sir John again resumed his station before the royal apartments, as captain of the body-guard; and Drost Peter returned to his own dwelling, his mind filled with painful doubts and fears.
When the grave drost entered, he found Count Gerhard enjoying himself over a goblet of wine; whilst old fostermother Dorothy, who was now her master's housekeeper here, loaded the table with viands of every description. At a signal from the drost, the bustling nurse left the apartment, whilst he greeted his guest not without some uneasy apprehensions.
"Welcome home, my good friend!" cried the count, gaily, as he rose, after having drained his goblet. "I am here, gathering strength from your excellent wine. If your fostermother reared you on this, I wonder not you are so strong and active. She is a capital housewife. You could never be better treated, even had you an angel for a wife. It is lucky she was not hanged or buried alive for her womanly honour's sake. But, what's the matter? Am not I welcome? You look as if you were outlawed by the Dane-court, or cited before the Ribe-Ret."
"You are heartily welcome, noble Count Gerhard," replied the drost, extending his hand; "and if peace and joy are not to be seen in my face, it is certainly no fault of your's. You are true to your word, I see, and no false prophet. The duke arrived this evening. To-morrow he is my master, and that of the royal house. But what have you discovered?"
"A very pretty thing, my good friend. You were as near being buried alive us your nurse was; and Nordborg Tower was to have been your grave. I succeeded in unbinding the highwayman's tongue with the point of a good sword at his throat. He confessed he would have broken your neck if he could not have taken you prisoner, for you had in your pocket important proofs against the regicides."
"And for that reason--ah! I understand," exclaimed Drost Peter. "But what farther?"
"Wait a little, my good friend. A man can't live on talk. Your confounded state affairs have nearly worn me out." So saying, Count Gerhard quietly resumed his seat, and replenished his goblet, whilst the drost impatiently awaited his farther communications.
"The duke is a cunning gentleman," began the count, when he had emptied his goblet, and again praised the wine; "and I am a downright stormer, they say. 'Tis true, indeed, that I mostly cut away right before me, and go straight to my object, without deviation. But now you shall see that I too, at a pinch, can play the fox--"
"I heartily believe it, my dear count; therefore, for Heaven's sake, don't prove it to me now! What know you of the duke? What has he been doing? What could have kept him from the Dane-court? Where has he been?--"