"What can the pope do to _our_ king?" asked Niels the horsemen; "he dwells in Italy, far over the sea yonder, and hath neither horsemen nor ships to send hither." "But he hath that which stands him in better stead," said Morten; "he hath got a bunch of keys, so heavy that a hundred men can't carry them, and with those he can both open and shut heaven and hell, to each one of us, just as it likes him. Hell-gate he willingly leaves open, for there is ever a throng in _that_ quarter; but heaven's gate, by my troth! he locks every evening himself, and lays the keys under his pillow." "But St. Peter keeps the gate," responded Niels; "he must ever stand sentinel there night and day." "Right, Niels! but St. Peter is the pope's cousin only; besides, the pope keeps him under finger and thumb, and takes the keys from him every evening, as soon as it grows dark, just as the steward takes the keys from thee: the pope, moreover, is the Lord's stadtholder, as thou surely know'st; and when he is wroth, he is able by a single word to shut up all the churches in the country, and give all of us, body and soul, to the devil." "Our Lady preserve us!" said Niels, crossing himself; "and think'st thou he durst act thus by our king and all Christian folk here in the country?" "Yes, he threatens hard to do it, they say. The devil take the confounded bishop below, there! _he_ is the cause of all this ill luck; 'twere better for king and country had he long since shown us a pair of clean heels." "Think'st thou so, Morten! 'tis arrant folly, then, to pen the fellow up here as they do?" "That's the king's business," answered Morten; "he surely knows what he is about; and hath doubtless his own reasons for what he does. The bishop had a hand in the game when they made away with his father in the barn at Finnerup--'tis true King Glipping was worth little enough, but he was king nevertheless, and the murder was a lawless business: our Lord forbid I should defend it! No one can think ill of our young king because he can't forgive the bishop; but, as I said before, state and country would fare better were the king less strict, and the bishop gone to the devil." While this dialogue was carrying on, the old turnkey returned half intoxicated, and threw himself on a bench before the drinking table. "How now, Mads! what red cheeks thou hast got," said the cook, laughing; "thou must surely have accredited the bishop's wine: thou didst right! who could know whether it might not be poisoned?" "Death and pestilence, Morten! what art prating of?" lisped forth the old man in a fright, and spit upon the floor. "I have not so much as tasted a drop of his wine; nevertheless, thou shouldst not jest about such things." "Be easy, old fellow!" said Morten, in a soothing tone; "I myself drank of it on the stairs. Well! what said he to the change?"