Why did these watchmen cast such wistful glances to the side of the burg? Because, issuing through the open windows, the cries of the wassailers, from time to time, also the rattle of drums and blare of hunting horns, reached their ears. There was a feast in Neroweg's hall. On that evening he was entertaining his royal guest Chram at his best. An iron lamp, that swung under the vaulted entrance of the antique _ergastula_, threw a dim light around the gate of the underground cell and also partially lighted it within. Steps were heard. A leude appeared followed by slaves bearing baskets and bowls. "Boys! Here's some beer for you, also wine, venison, bread and cheese. Eat, drink and be merry. The son of the King is on a visit at the burg." "Three cheers for Sigefrid, wine, beer and venison!" "But keep a close watch on the prisoners--let not one of you step aside--keep your eyes wide open." "Oh, those dogs do not move any more down there than if they had fallen asleep forever under the cold ground, where they will be to-morrow. You need not fear, Sigefrid." "Outside of the seigneur King, the bishop or Neroweg, whosoever should approach the iron railing to speak with the prisoners--" "Will instantly fall under our axes, Sigefrid--they are sharp and heavy." "At the slightest event, let the horns blow the alarm--we shall then immediately rush to your aid." "Those are all wise precautions, Sigefrid, but superfluous. The bridge is raised; besides, the slime in the fosse is so deep that anyone trying to cross it would sink over his head in it. Finally, there are no strangers at the burg. Including the King's bodyguard we are more than three hundred armed men--who would attempt to free the prisoners under such circumstances? Moreover they are as incapable of walking as a rabbit whose four paws have been cut off. So you see, Sigefrid, your precautions, however wise, are superfluous." "All the same, keep close watch until to-morrow. It is only one night of watch to you." "And we shall spend it merrily, drinking and singing." "They seem to be merry in the banquet hall, Sigefrid. Tell us what is going on." "The sun of May does not more greedily pump up the dew than our topers do the full kegs of wine and beer; mountains of victuals vanish in the abysses of their stomachs--they no longer talk, they yell; a little longer they will all be roaring! Chram's leudes at first affected daintiness and choice manners; but at this hour they guzzle, swallow and laugh like any of us. After all they are good and gay customers; some little jealousy on our part at first irritated us against them; the rivalry has been drowned in wine. Only shortly ago old Bertefred, hiccoughing and weeping like a calf, embraced one of the young warriors of the royal suite, and called him his darling little son." "Ha! Ha! Ha! That was a droll scene!"