The inmates of Axelhuus appeared to feel sufficiently secure to despise these disturbances which had commenced, though in a less degree, some days before. The bishop's well-fortified castle was situated on an island, the ferry-boats that usually plied there lay, during these commotions, in the harbour, under the high walls of the castle, by which means all communication between the town and the castle Island was cut off. The distance from the town, however, was not so great, but that Axelhuus might be reached from the strand by arrows, and especially by balista, when these dangerous engines of war were worked with proper skill. In the upper hall at Axelhuus, sat the spiritual and temporal ruler of the town, the little authoritative bishop Johan of Roskild, in solemn council, between his guests Archbishop Grand and Cardinal Isarnus. At the archbishop's right hand sat his faithful friend, the haughty abbot from the forest monastery. Grand's agent, the canon Nicholas from Roskild, was also present, as well as the canon Hans Rodis, who had assisted his flight from Sjoeberg. At the great hall table sat also the cardinal's famulus and his secretary, with two Italian ecclesiastics belonging to his train. For the convenience of the foreign cardinal, the conversation was chiefly carried on in Latin. The lord of the castle, the little bishop Johan, seemed to have assumed a determined and authoritative deportment in imitation of the archbishop, by whose side, however, he appeared wholly insignificant, although he now acted as the protector both of the powerful Grand, and of the cardinal. He now and then cast an observant glance out of the window towards the town and the increasing crowd on the strand, yet without betraying fear or uneasiness. Archbishop Grand had not yet overcome the consequences of his severe imprisonment. He rested his swollen feet on a soft stuffed foot-stool. There was a look of gloomy asperity on his pale, emaciated countenance. Every movement appeared to cost him an effort, while all his vital energy seemed as if concentrated in his large flashing eye. He sat lost in reverie, gazing before him in silence, while the cardinal, with a lurking smile in his small crafty eye, perused a document which his secretary had just drawn up. "Trust him not, venerable brother," whispered the abbot from the forest monastery in the archbishop's ear; "he secretly sides with the king: I know it; he aims at your archbishopric." Grand changed colour and clenched his hands convulsively, but was silent, and cast a searching look at the papal nuncio.