"Dear, dear grandfather, now do I know what has so troubled thee when it stormed of a night. But, trow me, it was not the dead King Abel who rode through Finnerup Forest in the dark: it was the marsk and his man; for I knew them both again. And now be comforted, dear grandfather. Our Lord will no longer be angry with thee for that deed. The ungodly King Abel, like another Cain, had surely slain his brother, and did not deserve to live. But if thou hast not rest therefore, dear, good grandfather, let us make a pilgrimage to Rome, or to the holy sepulchre, as you intended, and there obtain pardon of all our sins." "Yea, that will we, my child. Had I no greater burden to bear than thou hast, this path would be easy to me. Now, however, that thou knowest what oppresses me, I am already lighter of heart. I have never wished this deed undone, but still it has robbed me of my peace. If, however, it please God and St. Christian, my soul shall yet regain tranquillity ere I die. Whatever penance the holy father lays on me I shall perform, unless he require that I should repent. We shall succeed; and, if thou hast brought the gold-box with thee, we shall not suffer want on our journey. 'Tis time enough yet to fast." "See, grandfather, here it is: I have not touched it. I bound up wounds by the way, and thus earned more dalers than I have spent." So saying, she handed the old man a little wooden box, and another containing copper money. "But, alas, dear grandfather," she continued, "is it true that the dreadful marsk is stirring up the whole land to rebellion against the young king?" "Aye, child, and more's the pity: he is the ablest carl I have known; but Denmark has given birth to him to her own ruin. He has powerful friends, both at home and abroad. The country is full of traitors. There is something to be done here worth having a hand in, were I still young, and dared defer this penance. Flynderborg has been betrayed by Sir Lavé, and at Rypen House the marsk's banner of rebellion waves over the castle-gate." "Ah, grandfather, there will be terrible times. The duke, with a large army, is before Rypen, but nobody believes that he intends honestly by our young king and country. Drost Peter is also expected there--and Skirmen will certainly be with him--when, it is said, the castle will be taken by storm." Whilst they were thus conversing, they heard behind them the gallop of horses. They turned, and beheld two tall peasants, mounted on noble steeds, attended by a peasant-lad on a norback, and leading two saddled horses behind him. "Drost Peter!--Skirmen!" cried old Henner and Aasé, in the same breath.