When Morten had attended the steward to the bottom of the stairs, he ran into his chamber, and from thence to the kitchen and pantry. He presently mounted the tower stairs again, and returned to his comrades with a bundle of clothes, two baskets of provisions, and a couple of flagons of wine. "Take thou the meat and wine and clothes to the hound below, Mads!" said he to the old turnkey; "but steal not aught thereof on the way! Master says the chamber is to be made clean and neat. A guard will henceforth be placed outside the door night and day, so that thou need'st not load him with all the fetters. Meanwhile let us here get something to keep life in us. Look, comrades! I have both mead and German ale with me. Only get thee gone, Mads; we will surely leave something for thee, if thou comest back sober." The old man cast a longing look at the wine and good cheer he was to take to the captive, and departed. Morten now busied himself in placing the provisions on the table, and presently began to carouse merrily with the two younger turnkeys. The one had borne arms, and styled himself Niels the horseman; he was a lover of strong drink, and had rather a red nose. The other was a timid and cautious personage, with a cunning and miserly cast of countenance. He sat with the dice in his hands, and counted the number of marks he had won from his comrades. "Thou art an excellent fellow, Morten," said Niels the horseman, pushing back the cap which shaded his sun-burnt and martial visage, while he drained his cup of mead, and seized on the flagon of ale. "Thou knowest well how to furnish a guard-room when one is required to keep one's eyes open and one's spirits up. By my soul! I would rather keep guard in a camp over a whole army of captives than sit here, especially if the confounded bishop understands the black art, and such-like devilry. What dost think of all this, Morten?"