For some minutes, Drost Peter stood as if on burning coals. He heard loud voices without, demanding admittance, and recognised the shrill tones of Chamberlain Rané, who, in the king's name, ordered the burghers to open the door. The guards were surprised. Two of them hurried out into the passage, to learn the cause of the uproar. The door of the guard-room was again immediately opened, and Drost Peter saw Rané at the entrance, between the two guards.
At the same instant, the door of the king's closet was opened, and Sir Lavé Little stepped hastily over the threshold, and beckoned Drost Peter. With hurried steps he obeyed the signal. Sir Lavé locked the door of the king's closet after the drost, and ordered the guards to station themselves before it, without troubling themselves about the enraged chamberlain, who, insolently, and loud-voiced, stood in the middle of the ante-room, and accused the captain of the guard of having failed in his knightly promise, and of having transgressed the king's order.
"Whether Drost Peter has been improperly admitted at this door or not, we shall soon know," answered Sir Lavé. "So long as I have not the king's counter-order, it is my duty to admit the drost; but a chamberlain has nothing to do here at this hour, were he ten times the king's favourite. Be pleased to assist him out, gentlemen."
Three of the guards, with raised halberds, approached the enraged Rané, who gnashed his teeth, and left the guard-room, casting a look of vengeance at Sir Lavé.
Between the guard-room and the king's bed-closet was a large arched apartment, hung with gold-embroidered tapestry, with a round table in the middle, covered with scarlet cloth and long gold fringes. Here the king received those he would hold conversation with, and here the drost was obliged to wait for some time, until the attendant pages had assisted his majesty in dressing.
At the door of the royal sleeping-chamber stood a handsome youth, about eleven years of age, in the red lawn suit of a torch-page, and with a wax-light in his hand. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, while he admired, and regarded with respect, the tall, serious knight who had ventured to disturb the king's morning slumber. This page was the little Prince Erik's playmate, Aagé Jonsen. He was of the same age as the prince, and daily shared with him his martial exercises, and the various instructions in chivalry under Drost Peter's guidance. The youth's tender, almost maidenly features, were lighted up by the torch; and, as he thus stood, with his long golden locks falling over his linen collar, and his dark blue eyes resting, with respectful surprise, on his knightly teacher, the appearance of the friendly youth seemed to restore calmness to Drost Peter, and to fill his bosom with bold and lively confidence in his innocence and the justice of his case.
"Good morning, Aagé," he said, patting the lad kindly on the cheek: "have you been awoke too early this morning? You stand, indeed, as if you were yet dreaming. Is your little king still asleep?"
"Yes, dear sir drost. We were both much fatigued from wrestling with Junker[[13]] Christopher yesterday evening; and I took the torch-watch. I remained awake here, by the door, the whole night; but towards morning I could not keep my eyes open, and, at the moment Sir Lavé came, the torch was nearly out. You are not angry with me, then, for this?"
"I know you are a bold, vigilant lad, who, otherwise, would not sleep when you should be awake, and that is an important matter, Aagé. These are times wherein one should early learn both to watch and pray."
"I have prayed, likewise," answered the youth. "I prayed to God and Our Lady, both for Prince Erik and you, for the queen, and all good men; but still my eyes closed, and, had the king called me, I should have been unhappy."