Drost Peter had, in the meantime, bound a linen cloth about his bleeding neck, and, for this purpose, had been obliged to unloose the ruby rosary to which the amber bead was attached. With a quiet smile, he held out the trinket to his wounded antagonist.
"In my own justification, I shall inform you, excellent Count Gerhard, that this pearl is a love-token from my future wife. I have not seen her, indeed, since she played with dolls, and I myself rode a cock-horse; but still she is my destined bride: I promised this, with childish thoughtlessness, to my dying father. She now only presents herself to my mind as an innocent, angelic child--a half-forgotten vision. Perhaps I shall not be able to love her when I again see her. Nevertheless, to none other shall I give my hand; and, by my knightly honour, I am not conscious of any faithlessness to her. What I feel towards our common exalted mistress is only admiration and chivalrous respect, which neither love nor hate shall deprive me of."
"Here is my hand!" exclaimed Count Gerhard, heartily. "We two are trusty friends in life and in death. He who, from this day forward, says an evil word of Drost Peter Hessel, shall have his nose and ears hacked off by me, as sure as my name is Count Gerhard."
Drost Peter heartily reciprocated his warm grasp, and assisted him upon his horse. He then sprang quickly into his own saddle, and, with friendly interchange of confidence, the wounded knights leisurely continued their journey.
It was late in the evening as they approached Nyborg. They were riding northward, between Helletoft and Sprotoft, where the road leads to the town, which, however, could not yet be seen, on account of the great wood of oak and beech which concealed it from the land side. It was a fine, clear, spring evening. The waning moon had just risen, and lighted up the knotted oaks, with their still naked branches; while the newly-blossomed beeches formed, as it were, over the travellers, the arches of a peaceful temple. The warm combat and its consequences, as well as the friendly relations that had since been established between the knights, rendered them thoughtful, and they now rode in silence through the wood, busied, seemingly, with their own reflections, while, from the adjacent copse, the thrilling notes of the nightingale fell upon their ears.
"But how far are we now from the town? I thought we had been in its vicinity," said Count Gerhard, at length, a little impatiently, under the smarting of his wound. "Another time, perhaps, you may put a better edge upon your sword, Drost Peter: it will tear the flesh less, and go a little deeper. I cannot bear to be scratched to death."
"Had it gone a finger's-breadth deeper, noble count, we had not heard the nightingales together this evening," replied Drost Peter. "But, God and our lady be praised! there is no danger, and the wound will not trouble you long, if you be only a little careful. I know my salve: it is from Henrik Harpestræng's prescription."
"May your words prove true," returned the count. "He certainly spread the plaster for Waldemar Seier's eye. But how shall I manage in this plight?" he continued, somewhat annoyed: "I shall not be able to show myself at the palace in this figure, like a ruffled cock, and I am not much acquainted with the town. Is there an ordinary inn?"
"Of inns there is no lack, noble sir. Since the Dane-court has been held here so frequently, the little town has been wonderfully extended. But, since you cannot go wounded to the palace, to frighten all the queen's fair maids, accept of a lodging and attendance with me."
"With you, drost bachelor? When, then, did you turn citizen, and become a Nyborg housekeeper?"