When Morten entered the murky prison, he stood in silence, until the sound of the locking and bolting of the door had ceased, and until the hollow tread of the steward's iron-shod boots died away on the stairs; he then approached the captive's couch, and was about to speak, but he now heard singing and loud voices in the upper chamber. It was old Mads the turnkey making merry with his nephews and the young fellows from the village who were to keep watch with him. Morten listened in silence. He perceived from their inarticulate voices and drowsy songs, that the mead and Saxon ale he had secretly brought them had been greatly to their taste. Through a little hole in the ceiling above there fell a ray of light from their lamp upon the archbishop's couch, and lit up his long pale visage. He lay with closed eyes without stirring, apparently in a sound sleep. Morten seated himself upon the damp stone floor, and interrupted not his repose until the noise of the carouse had entirely ceased, and he heard in the stillness of the night how they were snoring overhead. "Sleep you, venerable sir?" he whispered, as he rose up from the floor. "No, thou faithful servant of the Lord!" answered the archbishop, in a weak voice, and raised his head. "I and the Lord's vengeance do but _seem_ to sleep, until it is time to wake and act." "Now is the time to show clean heels," continued Morten. "Is all ready here?" "Long since. Thou hast tarried long; yet even that was an ordering of the Lord. I was destined even in my chains to become a chastising rod in the Lord's hand; but I was well nigh believing thou had'st failed me, or wert betrayed." "You thought, then, I was either a fox or a sheep, reverend sir. Have you the rope ladder?" "Here--but be cautious, Morten. Tie it to the thickest bar in the grate; that is secure. Take the others out; they are filed through--but make no noise! I can rid myself of the fetters. Thy file was blunt, but the Lord sharpened it in my hand. His angel hath struck mine enemies both deaf and blind." "But now comes the _knotty_ point, pious sir," whispered Morten, as he lingered, with an ambiguous smile. "Now all depends upon whether the Lord's angel will help you still farther. Up to the window he hath indeed taught you to creep, but we have to descend thirty-six feet from thence to the tower wall, and then we still have that confounded castle wall besides. Over the moat and lake the Lord hath indeed laid a bridge. See you this cord? Were I now to strangle you with it I might perhaps make my fortune; but I am too pious a fellow for that. I will but fasten it to the slip knot, that we may be able to draw the ladder after us. I will go down first to aid you. Look now. I will answer for the ladder, if you can but keep your hold, till I can reach you from below. But----"