“Well,” said the king, “I suppose that is true, I will therefore pardon you again, if you can this night manage to take away the sceptre from under my pillow without waking either the queen or me.”
“That is beyond the power of any man to do,” replied Greybeard; “for how can I get at night into your palace, which is always guarded? much less into your bedchamber!”
“Nay, that is your affair; you must see to that,” replied the king. “And remember that, if you fail, it means losing your life.” And with these words he dismissed him.
Then Greybeard returned to the old couple, who welcomed him as if he had indeed returned to them from the dead. Trude had roasted the finest joint, gathered a big bowl of whortleberries, and baked some nice crisp girdle cakes, so they had a great feast, after which Greybeard asked her to give him one of her nice sleeping-potions which she made for Geir when his rheumatism was very bad.
“That I will gladly, my son,” said Trude, heartily. She quickly hung her pot over the glowing embers, putting in henbane and many other herbs, and when the potion was ready she poured it into a little bottle and gave it to Greybeard.
The sun had by this time set like a golden ball, tinting the great brown stems of the tall pines with a rich crimson glow, as Greybeard, with the bottle carefully placed in his coat pocket, made his way back to the castle.
Watching his opportunity when the sentry at the little postern gate had turned his back, he slipped through the gate and hid himself in a dark corner behind one of the great buttresses. Presently he heard the gates close for the night, so that there should be no possibility of a thief getting in.
When Greybeard thought he had allowed a sufficiently long time to pass to admit of every one, including the king and queen, being soundly asleep, he stole quietly and cautiously out of his hiding-place and along the great passages, till he reached the royal bedchamber. Carefully opening the door, he crept softly up to the big couch on which reposed the king and queen. Making sure that they were sound asleep, he drew forth his little bottle, poured some of the contents on his handkerchief, and dropped it lightly over the faces of the royal couple.
He waited for a few minutes to see that the sleeping-drops had taken effect, and then, slipping his hand under the king’s pillow, he slowly and cautiously drew forth the great golden sceptre, buttoned it safely inside his coat, and, removing the handkerchief, he hastened back to his hiding-place behind the buttress, and as soon as the gate was opened at daybreak, he ran back to old Geir’s hut.
The next morning, when the king and queen awoke, the former put his hand under the pillow, and behold the sceptre was gone!