Chapter IV: Part 4

Who knows? Were my right alone in question, mayhap I had not paid so
dear to prove it; but higher things are here at stake: my calling
and my duty. Deep and warm is the faith within me—and I blush not to
own it—that I alone am he who in these times can sway the land to
its weal. Kingly birth begets kingly duty——

EARL SKULE.

There are others here who bear themselves the like fair witness.

SIGURD RIBBUNG.

That do I, and with full as good ground. My grandfather was King
Magnus Erlingsson——

HÅKON.

Ay, if your father, Erling Steinvæg, was indeed King Magnus’s son;
but most folk deny it, and in that matter none has yet faced the
ordeal.

SIGURD RIBBUNG.

The Ribbungs chose me as king of their own free will, whereas ’twas
by threats that Dagfinn the Peasant and other Birchlegs[24] gained
for you the name of King.

HÅKON.

Ay, so ill had you dealt with Norway that the stock of Sverrë had to
claim its right with threats.

GUTHORM INGESSON.

I am of the stock of Sverrë as much as you——

DAGFINN.

But not in the true male line.

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

You come on the spindle side, Guthorm.

GUTHORM INGESSON.

Yet this I know, that my father, Ingë Bårdsson, was lawfully chosen
king of Norway.

HÅKON.

Because none knew that Sverrë’s grandson was alive. From the day
that became known, he held the kingdom in trust for me—not
otherwise.

EARL SKULE.

That cannot truly be said; Ingë was king all his days, with all
lawful power and without reserve. ’Tis true enough that Guthorm has
but little claim, for he was born out of wedlock; but I am King
Ingë’s lawfully begotten brother, and the law is with me if I claim,
and take, his full inheritance.

DAGFINN.

Ah, Sir Earl, of a truth you have taken full inheritance, not of
your father’s wealth alone, but of all the goods Håkon Sverresson
left behind him.

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

Not all, good Dagfinn. Respect the truth;—King Håkon has kept a
brooch and the golden ring he wears on his arm.

HÅKON.

Be that as it will; with God’s help I shall win myself wealth again.
And now, ye barons and thanes, ye churchmen and chieftains and
men-at-arms, now it is time we held the folkmote, as has been
agreed. I have sat with bound hands until this day; methinks no man
will blame me for longing to have them loosed.

EARL SKULE.

There are others in like case, Håkon Håkonsson.

HÅKON.

[_His attention arrested._] What mean you, Sir Earl?

EARL SKULE.

I mean that all we Pretenders have the same cause for longing. We
have all alike been straitly bound, for none of us has known how far
his right might reach.

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

The Church has been even as unstable as the kingdom; but now must we
abide by the sainted King Olaf’s law.

DAGFINN.

[_Half aloud._] Fresh subtleties!

[HÅKON’S _men gather more closely together._

HÅKON.

[_With forced calmness, advances a couple of paces towards the_
EARL.] I would fain think I have not rightly taken your meaning. The
ordeal has made good my birthright to the kingdom, and therefore, as
I deem, the folkmote has nought to do but to confirm my election,
made at the Örething[25] six years ago.

SEVERAL OF THE EARL’S AND SIGURD’S MEN.

No, no! That we deny!

EARL SKULE.

’Twas with no such thought that we agreed to hold the folkmote here.
The ordeal has not given you the kingdom; it has but proved your
title to come forward to-day, along with the other Pretenders here
present, and contend for the right you hold to be yours——

HÅKON.

[_Constraining himself to be calm._] That means, in brief, that for
six years I have unlawfully borne the name of King, and you, Sir
Earl, have for six years unlawfully ruled the land as regent for me.

EARL SKULE.

In no wise. When my brother died, ’twas needful that some one should
bear the kingly title. The Birchlegs, and most of all Dagfinn the
Peasant, were active in your cause, and hastened your election
through before we others could set forth our claims.

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

[_To_ HÅKON.] The Earl would say that that election gave you but the
use of the kingly power, not the right to it.

EARL SKULE.

You have held all the marks of kingship; but Sigurd Ribbung and
Guthorm Ingesson and I hold ourselves to the full as near inheritors
as you; and now shall the law judge between us, and say whose shall
be the inheritance for all time.

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

In truth, Earl Skule reads the case aright.

EARL SKULE.

There has been talk more than once in these years of both ordeal and
folkmote; but something has ever come between. And, Sir Håkon, if
you deemed your right for ever fixed by the first election, how came
you to accept the ordeal?

DAGFINN.

[_Exasperated._] To your swords, King’s men, let _them_ decide!

MANY OF THE KING’S MEN.

[_Rushing forward._] Down with the King’s enemies!

EARL SKULE.

[_Calls to his men._] Slay none! Wound none! Only keep them off.

HÅKON.

[_Restraining his men._] Up with your blades, all who have drawn
them!—Up with your blades, I say! [_Calmly._] You make things
tenfold worse for me by such doings.

EARL SKULE.

Even so are men flying at each other’s throats all the country over.
You see now, Håkon Håkonsson; does not this show clearly what you
have to do, if you care aught for the country’s peace and the lives
of men?

HÅKON.

[_After some reflection._] Yes—I see it. [_Takes_ INGA _by the hand
and turns to one of those standing by him._] Torkell, you were a
trusty man in my father’s guard; take this woman to your own abode
and see you tend her well; she was very dear to Håkon
Sverresson.—God bless you, my mother,—now I must gird me for the
folkmote. [INGA _presses his hand, and goes with_ TORKELL. HÅKON _is
silent awhile, then steps forward and says with emphasis:_] The law
shall decide, and it alone. Ye Birchlegs who, at the Örething, took
me for your King, I free you from the oath ye sware to me. You,
Dagfinn, are no longer my marshal; I will not appear with marshal or
with guard,[26] with vassals or with henchmen. I am a poor man; all
my inheritance is a brooch and this gold ring;—these are scant goods
wherewith to reward so many good men’s service. Now, ye other
Pretenders, now we stand equal; I will have no advantage of you,
save the right which I have from above—that I neither can nor will
share with any one.—Let the assembly-call be sounded, and then let
God and the Holy King Olaf’s law decide.

[_Goes out with his men to the left; blasts of trumpets and
horns are heard in the distance._

GREGORIUS JONSSON.

[_To the_ EARL, _as the crowd is departing._] Methought you seemed
afraid during the ordeal, and now you look so glad and of good
cheer.

EARL SKULE.

[_Well at ease._] Marked you that he had Sverre’s eyes as he spoke?
Whether he or I be chosen king, the choice will be good.

GREGORIUS JONSSON.

[_Uneasily._] But do not you give way. Think of all who stand or
fall with your cause.

EARL SKULE.

I stand now upon justice; I no longer fear to call upon Saint Olaf.

[_Goes out to the left with his followers._

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

[_Hastening after_ DAGFINN THE PEASANT.] All goes well, good
Dagfinn, all goes well;—but keep the Earl far from the King when he
is chosen;—see you keep them far apart!

[_All go out to the left, behind the church._

--------------

_A hall in the Palace. In front, on the left, is a low window; on
the right, the entrance-door; at the back, a larger door which
leads into the King’s Hall. By the window, a table; chairs and
benches stand about._

LADY RAGNHILD _and_ MARGRETE _enter by the smaller door;_ SIGRID
_follows immediately._

LADY RAGNHILD.

In here?

MARGRETE.

Ay, here it is darkest.

LADY RAGNHILD.

[_Goes to the window._] And here we can look down upon the
mote-stead.

MARGRETE.

[_Looks out cautiously._] Ay, there they are, all gathered behind
the church. [_Turns, in tears._] Yonder must now betide what will
bring so much in its train.

LADY RAGNHILD.

Who will be master in this hall to-morrow?

MARGRETE.

Oh, hush! So heavy a day I had never thought to see.

LADY RAGNHILD.

It had to be; to rule in another’s name was no full work for him.

MARGRETE.

Ay, it had to be; _he_ could never rest content with but the name of
king.

LADY RAGNHILD.

Of whom speak you?

MARGRETE.

Of Håkon.

LADY RAGNHILD.

I spoke of the Earl.

MARGRETE.

There breathe not nobler men than they two.

LADY RAGNHILD.

See you Sigurd Ribbung? With what a look of evil cunning he sits
there—like a wolf in chains.

MARGRETE.

Ay, see!—He folds his hands before him on his sword-hilt and rests
his chin upon them.

LADY RAGNHILD.

He bites his beard and laughs——

MARGRETE.

’Tis an evil laugh.

LADY RAGNHILD.

He knows that none will further his cause;—’tis that which makes him
wroth. Who is yonder thane that speaks now?

MARGRETE.

That is Gunnar Grionbak.

LADY RAGNHILD.

Is he for the Earl?

MARGRETE.

No, he is for the King——

LADY RAGNHILD.

[_Looking at her._] For whom say you?

MARGRETE.

For Håkon Håkonsson.

LADY RAGNHILD.

[_Looks out; after a short pause._] Where sits Guthorm Ingesson?—I
see him not.

MARGRETE.

Behind his men, lowest of all there—in a long mantle.

LADY RAGNHILD.

Ay, there.

MARGRETE.

He looks as though he were ashamed——

LADY RAGNHILD.

That is for his mother’s sake.

MARGRETE.

So looked not Håkon.

LADY RAGNHILD.

Who speaks now?

MARGRETE.

[_Looking out._] Tord Skolle, the thane of Ranafylke.

LADY RAGNHILD.

Is _he_ for the Earl?

MARGRETE.

No—for Håkon.

LADY RAGNHILD.

How motionless the Earl sits listening!

MARGRETE.

Håkon seems thoughtful—but strong none the less. [_With animation._]
If there came a traveller from afar, he could pick out those two
amongst all the thousand others.

LADY RAGNHILD.

See, Margrete! Dagfinn the Peasant drags forth a gilded chair for
Håkon——

MARGRETE.

Paul Flida places one like it behind the Earl——

LADY RAGNHILD.

Håkon’s men seek to hinder it!

MARGRETE.

The Earl holds fast to the chair——!

LADY RAGNHILD.

Håkon speaks wrathfully to him. [_Starts back, with a cry, from the
window._] Lord Jesus! Saw you his eyes—and his smile——! No, that was
not the Earl!

MARGRETE.

[_Who has followed her in terror._] ’Twas not Håkon either! Neither
one nor the other!

SIGRID.

[_At the window._] Oh pitiful! Oh pitiful!

MARGRETE.

Sigrid!

LADY RAGNHILD.

You here!

SIGRID.

Goes the path so low that leads up to the throne!

MARGRETE.

Oh, pray with us, that all be guided for the best.

LADY RAGNHILD.

[_White and horror-stricken, to_ SIGRID.] Saw you him——? Saw you my
husband——? His eyes and his smile—I should not have known him!

SIGRID.

Looked he like Sigurd Ribbung?

LADY RAGNHILD.

[_Softly._] Ay, he looked like Sigurd Ribbung.

SIGRID.

Laughed he like Sigurd?

LADY RAGNHILD.

Ay, ay!

SIGRID.

Then must we all pray.

LADY RAGNHILD.

[_With the force of despair._] The Earl _must_ be chosen King!
’Twill work ruin in his soul if he be not the first man in the land!

SIGRID.

[_More loudly._] Then must we all pray!

LADY RAGNHILD.

Hist! What is _that_? [_At the window._] What shouts! All the men
have risen; all the banners and standards wave in the wind.

SIGRID.

[_Seizes her by the arm._] Pray, woman! Pray for your husband!

LADY RAGNHILD.

Ay, Holy King Olaf, give him all the power in this land!

SIGRID.

[_Wildly._] None—none! Else is he lost!

LADY RAGNHILD.

He _must_ have the power. All the good in him will grow and blossom
should he win it.—Look forth, Margrete! Listen! [_Starts back a
step._] All hands are lifted for an oath!

[MARGRETE _listens at the window._

LADY RAGNHILD.

God and St. Olaf, to whom do they swear?

SIGRID.

Pray!

[MARGRETE _listens, and with uplifted hand motions for
silence._

LADY RAGNHILD.

[_After a little while._] Speak!

[_From the mote-stead is heard a loud blast of trumpets and
horns._

LADY RAGNHILD.

God and St. Olaf! To whom have they sworn?

[_A short pause._

MARGRETE.

[_Turns her head and says:_] They have chosen Håkon Håkonsson king.

[_The music of the royal procession is heard, first in the
distance and then nearer and nearer._ LADY RAGNHILD
_clings weeping to_ SIGRID, _who leads her quietly out
on the right;_ MARGRETE _remains immovable, leaning
against the window-frame. The_ KING’S _attendants open
the great doors, disclosing the interior of the Hall,
which is gradually filled by the procession from the
mote-stead._

HÅKON.

[_In the doorway, turning to_ IVAR BODDE.] Bring me a pen and wax
and silk—I have parchment here. [_Advances exultantly to the table
and spreads some rolls of parchment upon it._] Margrete, now am I
King!

MARGRETE.

Hail to my lord and King!

HÅKON.

I thank you. [_Looks at her and takes her hand._] Forgive me; I
forgot that it must wound you.

MARGRETE.

[_Drawing her hand away._] It did not wound me;—of a surety you are
born to be king.

HÅKON.

[_With animation._] Ay, must not all men own it, who remember how
marvellously God and the saints have shielded me from all harm? I
was but a year old when the Birchlegs bore me over the mountains, in
frost and storm, and through the very midst of those who sought my
life. At Nidaros I came scatheless from the Baglers[27] when they
burnt the town with so great a slaughter, while King Ingë himself
barely saved his life by climbing on shipboard up the anchor-cable.

MARGRETE.

Your youth has been a hard one.

HÅKON.

[_Looking steadily at her._] Methinks you might have made it easier.

MARGRETE.

I?

HÅKON.

You might have been so good a foster-sister to me, through all the
years when we were growing up together.

MARGRETE.

But it fell out otherwise.

HÅKON.

Ay, it fell out otherwise;—we looked at each other, I from my
corner, you from yours, but we seldom spoke——[_Impatiently._] What
is keeping him? [IVAR BODDE _comes with the writing materials._] Are
you there? Give me the things!

[HÅKON _seats himself at the table and writes. A little
while after,_ EARL SKULE comes in; then DAGFINN THE
PEASANT, BISHOP NICHOLAS _and_ VEGARD VÆRADAL.

HÅKON.

[_Looks up and lays down his pen._] Know you, Sir Earl, what I am
writing here? [_The_ EARL _approaches._] This is to my mother; I
thank her for all her love, and kiss her a thousand times—here in
the letter you understand. She is to be sent eastward to
Borgasyssel, there to live with all queenly honours.

EARL SKULE.

You will not keep her in the palace?

HÅKON.

She is too dear to me, Earl;—a king must have none about him whom he
loves too well. A king must act with free hands; he must stand alone
he must neither be led nor lured. There is so much to be mended in
Norway.

[_Goes on writing._

VEGARD VÆRADAL.

[_Softly to_ BISHOP NICHOLAS.] ’Tis by _my_ counsel he deals thus
with Inga, his mother.

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

I knew your hand in it at once.

VEGARD VÆRADAL.

But now one good turn deserves another.

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

Wait. I will keep my promise.

HÅKON.

[_Gives the parchment to_ IVAR BODDE.] Fold it together and bear it
to her yourself, with many loving greetings——

IVAR BODDE.

[_Who has glanced at the parchment._] My lord—you write
here—“to-day”——!

HÅKON.

The wind is fair for a southward course.

DAGFINN.

[_Slowly._] Bethink you, my lord King, that she has lain all night
on the altar-steps in prayer and fasting.

IVAR BODDE.

And she may well be weary after the ordeal.

HÅKON.

True, true;—my good, kind mother—— [_Collects himself._] Well, if
she be too weary, let her wait until to-morrow.

IVAR BODDE.

It shall be as you will. [_Puts another parchment forward._] But
this other, my lord.

HÅKON.

That other?—Ivar Bodde, I cannot.

DAGFINN.

[_Points to the letter for_ INGA.] Yet you could do _that_.

IVAR BODDE.

All things sinful must be put away.

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

[_Who has drawn near in the meantime._] Bind the Earl’s hands, King
Håkon.

HÅKON.

[_In a low voice._] Think you _that_ is needful?

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

At no cheaper rate can you buy peace in the land.

HÅKON.

Then I can do it! Give me the pen!

[_Writes._

EARL SKULE.

[_To the_ BISHOP, _who crosses to the right._] You have the King’s
ear, it would seem.

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

For your behoof.

EARL SKULE.

Say you so?

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

Before nightfall you will thank me.

[_He moves away._

HÅKON.

[_Hands the_ EARL _the parchment._] Read that, Earl Skule.

EARL SKULE.

[_Reads, looks in surprise at the_ KING, _and says in a low voice._]
You break with Kanga the Young?

HÅKON.

With Kanga whom I have loved more than all the world. From this day
forth she must never more cross the King’s path.

EARL SKULE.

This that you do is a great thing, Håkon. Mine own memory tells me
what it must cost.

HÅKON.

Whoever is too dear to the King must away.—Tie up the letter.
[_Gives it to_ IVAR BODDE.

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

[_Bending over the chair._] You have made a great stride towards the
Earl’s friendship, my lord King.

HÅKON.

[_Holds out his hand to him._] I thank you, Bishop Nicholas; you
counselled me for the best. Ask a grace of me, and I will grant it.

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

Will you?

HÅKON.

I promise it on my kingly faith.

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

Then make Vegard Væradal thane of Halogaland.

HÅKON.

Vegard? He is well-nigh the trustiest friend I have; I am loath to
send him so far from me.

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

The King’s friend must be royally rewarded. Bind the Earl’s hands as
I have counselled you, and you will be secure for ever and a day.

HÅKON.

[_Takes a sheet of parchment._] Vegard shall bear rule in
Halogaland. [_Writing._] I hereby grant it under my royal hand.
[_The Bishop retires._

EARL SKULE.

[_Approaches the table._] What write you now?

HÅKON.

[_Hands him the sheet._] Read.

EARL SKULE.

[_Reads, and looks steadily at the_ KING.] Vegard Væradal? In
Halogaland?

HÅKON.

The northern part stands vacant.

EARL SKULE.

Bethink you that Andres Skialdarband[28] has also a charge in the
north. They two are bitter foes;—Andres Skialdarband is of my
following——

HÅKON.

[_Smiling and rising._] And Vegard Væradal of mine. Therefore they
must e’en make friends again, the sooner the better. Henceforth
there must be no enmity between the King’s men and the Earl’s.

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

Ha!—this may go too far. [_Approaches, uneasy._

EARL SKULE.

Your thoughts are wise and deep, Håkon.

HÅKON.

[_Warmly._] Earl Skule, to-day have I taken the kingdom from you—let
your daughter share it with me!

EARL SKULE.

My daughter!

MARGRETE.

Oh, God!

HÅKON.

Margrete, will you be my Queen?

[_Margrete is silent._

HÅKON.

[_Takes her hand._] Answer me.

MARGRETE.

[_Softly._] I will gladly be your wife.

EARL SKULE.

[_Pressing Håkon’s hand._] Peace and friendship from my heart!

HÅKON.

I thank you.

IVAR BODDE.

[_To_ DAGFINN.] Heaven be praised; here is the dawn.

DAGFINN.

I almost believe it. Never before have I liked the Earl so well.

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

[_Behind him._] Ever on your guard, good Dagfinn—ever on your guard.

IVAR BODDE.

[_To_ VEGARD.] Now are you thane in Halogaland; here you have it
under the King’s hand.

[_Gives him the letter._

VEGARD VÆRADAL.

I will thank the King for his favour another time.

[_About to go._

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

[_Stops him._] Andres Skialdarband is an ugly neighbour; be not
cowed by him.

VEGARD VÆRADAL.

No one has yet cowed Vegard Væradal. [_Goes._

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

[_Following._] Be as rock and flint to Andres Skialdarband,—and,
while I think on’t, take my blessing with you.

IVAR BODDE.

[_Who has been waiting behind the_ KING _with the parchments in his
hand._] Here are the letters, my lord.

HÅKON.

Good; give them to the Earl.

IVAR BODDE.

To the Earl? Will you not seal them?

HÅKON.

The Earl is wont to do that;—he holds the seal.

IVAR BODDE.

[_Softly._] Ay, hitherto—while he was regent—but _now_!

HÅKON.

Now as before;—the Earl holds the seal.

[_Moves away._

EARL SKULE.

Give me the letters, Ivar Bodde.

[_Goes to the table with them, takes out the Great Seal
which he wears under his girdle, and seals the letters
during the following._

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

[_Muttering._] Håkon Håkonsson is King—and the Earl holds the royal
seal;—I like that—I like that.

HÅKON.

What says my lord Bishop?

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

I say that God and St. Olaf watch over their holy church. [_Goes
into the King’s Hall._

HÅKON.

[_Approaching Margrete._] A wise queen can do great things in the
land: I chose you fearlessly, for I know you are wise.

MARGRETE.

Only _that_?

HÅKON.

What mean you?

MARGRETE.

Nothing, my lord, nothing.

HÅKON.

And you will bear me no grudge if for my sake you have had to forgo
fair hopes?

MARGRETE.

I have forgone no fair hopes for your sake.

HÅKON.

And you will stand ever near me, and give me good counsel?

MARGRETE.

I would fain stand near to you.

HÅKON.

And give me good counsel. I thank you for that; a woman’s counsel
profits every man, and henceforth I have none but you—my mother I
had to send away——

MARGRETE.

Ay, she was too dear to you——

HÅKON.

And I am King. Farewell then, Margrete! You are so young yet; but
next summer shall our bridal be,—and from that hour I swear to keep
you by my side in all seemly faith and honour.

MARGRETE.

[_Smiles sadly._] Ay, ’twill be long, I know, ere you send me away.

HÅKON.

[_Brightly._] Send you away? That will I never do.

MARGRETE.

[_With tears in her eyes._] No, that Håkon does only to those who
are too dear to him.

[_She goes towards the entrance door._ HÅKON _gazes
thoughtfully after her._

LADY RAGNHILD.

[_From the right._] The King and the Earl tarry here so long! My
fears are killing me;—Margrete, what has the King said and done?

MARGRETE.

Oh, much, much! Last of all, he chose a thane and a Queen.

LADY RAGNHILD.

You, Margrete!

MARGRETE.

[_Throws her arms round her mother’s neck._] Yes!

LADY RAGNHILD.

You are to be Queen!

MARGRETE.

Queen only;—but I think I am glad even of that.

[_She and her mother go out to the right._

EARL SKULE.

[_To_ IVAR BODDE.] Here are our letters; bear them to the King’s
mother and to Kanga.

[IVAR BODDE _bows and goes._

DAGFINN.

[_In the doorway of the hall._] The Archbishop of Nidaros craves
leave to offer King Håkon Håkonsson his homage.

HÅKON.

[_Draws a deep breath._] At last, then, I am King of Norway.

EARL SKULE.

[_Places the Great Seal in his girdle._] But _I_ rule the realm.

ACT SECOND.

_Banquet Hall in the Palace at Bergen. A large bay-window in the
middle of the back wall, along which there is a daïs with
seats for the ladies. Against the left wall stands the throne,
raised some steps above the floor; in the centre of the
opposite wall is the great entrance door. Banners, standards,
shields and weapons, with many-coloured draperies, hang from
the wall-timbers and from the carven rafters. Around the hall
stand drinking-tables, with flagons, horns, and beakers._

KING HÅKON_ sits upon the daïs, with_ MARGRETE, SIGRID, LADY
RAGNHILD, _and many noble ladies._ IVAR BODDE _stands behind
the King’s chair. Round the drinking-tables are seated the
King’s and the Earl’s men, with guests. At the foremost table
on the right sit, among others,_ DAGFINN THE PEASANT,
GREGORIUS JONSSON, _and_ PAUL FLIDA. EARL SKULE _and_ BISHOP
NICHOLAS _are playing chess at a table on the left. The Earl’s
house-folk go to and fro, bearing cans of liquor. From an
adjoining room, music is heard during the following scene._

DAGFINN.

The fifth day now wears on, yet the henchmen are none the less
nimble at setting forth the brimming flagons.

PAUL FLIDA.

It was never the Earl’s wont to stint his guests.

DAGFINN.

No, so it would seem. So royal a bridal-feast was never seen in
Norway before.

PAUL FLIDA.

Earl Skule has never before given a daughter in marriage.

DAGFINN.

True, true; the Earl is a mighty man.

A MAN-AT-ARMS.

He holds a third part of the kingdom. That is more than any earl has
held heretofore.

PAUL FLIDA.

But the King’s part is larger.

DAGFINN.

We talk not of that here; we are friends now, and fully at one.
[_Drinks to_ PAUL.] So let King be King and Earl be Earl.

PAUL FLIDA.

[_Laughs._] ’Tis easy to hear that you are a King’s man.

DAGFINN.

That should the Earl’s men also be.

PAUL FLIDA.

Never. We have sworn fealty to the Earl, not to the King.

DAGFINN.

That may yet have to be done.

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

[_To the_ EARL, _under cover of the game._] Hear you what Dagfinn
the Peasant says?

EARL SKULE.

[_Without looking up._] I hear.

GREGORIUS JONSSON.

[_Looking steadily at_ DAGFINN.] Has the King thoughts of that?

DAGFINN.

Nay, nay,—let be;—no wrangling to-day.

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

The King would force your men to swear him fealty, Earl.

GREGORIUS JONSSON.

[_Louder._] Has the King thoughts of that, I ask?

DAGFINN.

I will not answer. Let us drink to peace and friendship between the
King and the Earl. The ale is good.

PAUL FLIDA.

It has had time enough to mellow.

GREGORIUS JONSSON.

Three times has the Earl prepared the bridal—three times the King
promised to come—three times he came not.

DAGFINN.

Blame the Earl for _that_: he gave us plenty to do in Viken.

PAUL FLIDA.

’Tis said Sigurd Ribbung gave you still more to do in Vermeland.

DAGFINN.

[_Flaring up._] Ay, and who was it that let Sigurd Ribbung slip
through their fingers?

GREGORIUS JONSSON.

Sigurd Ribbung fled from us at Nidaros, that all men know.

DAGFINN.

But no man knows that you did aught to hinder him.

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

[_To the_ EARL, _who is pondering on a move._] Hear you, Earl? It
was you who let Sigurd Ribbung escape.

EARL SKULE.

[_Makes a move._] That is an old story.

GREGORIUS JONSSON.

Have you not heard, then, of the Icelander Andres Torsteinsson,
Sigurd Ribbung’s friend——

DAGFINN.

Ay; when Sigurd had escaped, you hanged the Icelander—that I know.

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

[_Makes a move and says laughingly to the_ EARL.] I take the pawn,
Sir Earl.[29]

EARL SKULE.

[_Aloud._] Take him; a pawn is of small account.

[_Makes a move._

DAGFINN.

Ay; that the Icelander found to his cost, when Sigurd Ribbung
escaped to Vermeland.

[_Suppressed laughter amongst the King’s men; the
conversation is continued in a low tone; presently a man
comes in and whispers to_ GREGORIUS JONSSON.

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

Then I move here, and you have lost.

EARL SKULE.

So it would seem.

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

[_Leaning back in his chair._] You did not guard the king well at
the last.

EARL SKULE.

[_Strews the pieces topsy-turvy and rises._] I have long been weary
of guarding kings.

GREGORIUS JONSSON.

[_Approaches and says in a low tone._] Sir Earl, Jostein[30] Tamb
sends word that the ship now lies ready for sea.

EARL SKULE.

[_Softly._] Good. [_Takes out a sealed parchment._] Here is the
letter.

GREGORIUS JONSSON.

[_Shaking his head._] Earl, Earl,—is _this_ well bethought?

EARL SKULE.

What?

GREGORIUS JONSSON.

It bears the King’s seal.

EARL SKULE.

I am acting for the King’s good.

GREGORIUS JONSSON.

Then let the King himself reject the offer.

EARL SKULE.

That he will not, if he has his own way. His whole heart is bent on
cowing the Ribbungs, therefore he is fain to secure himself on other
sides.

GREGORIUS JONSSON.

Your way may be wise,—but it is dangerous.

EARL SKULE.

Leave that to me. Take the letter, and bid Jostein sail forthwith.

GREGORIUS JONSSON.

It shall be as you command.

[_Goes out to the right, and presently comes in again._

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

[_To the_ EARL.] You have much to see to, it would seem.

EARL SKULE.

But small thanks for it.

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

The King has risen.

[HÅKON _comes down; all the men rise from the tables._

HÅKON.

[_To the_ BISHOP.] We are rejoiced to see you bear up so bravely and
well through all these days of merriment.

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

There comes a flicker now and again, my lord King; but ’twill scarce
last long. I have lain sick all the winter through.

HÅKON.

Ay, ay,—you have lived a strong life, rich in deeds of fame.

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

[_Shakes his head._] Ah, ’tis little enough I have done, and I have
_much_ still left to do. If I but knew whether I should have time
for it all!

HÅKON.

The living must take up the tasks of those who go before, honoured
lord; we all have the welfare of the land at heart. [_Turns to the_
EARL.] I marvel much at one thing: that neither of our thanes from
Halogaland has come to the bridal.

EARL SKULE.

True; I doubted not that Andres Skialdarband would be here.

HÅKON.

[_Smiling._] And Vegard Væradal too.

EARL SKULE.

Ay, Vegard too.

HÅKON.

[_In jest._] And I trust you would now have received my old friend
better than you did seven years ago on Oslo wharf, when you stabbed
him in the cheek so that the blade cut its way out.

EARL SKULE.

[_With a forced laugh._] Ay, the time that Gunnulf, your mother’s
brother, cut off the right hand of Sira Eiliv, my best friend and
counsellor.

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

[_Merrily._] And when Dagfinn the Peasant and the men-at-arms set a
strong night-watch on the King’s ship, saying that the King was
unsafe in the Earl’s ward?

HÅKON.

[_Seriously._] Those days are old and forgotten.

DAGFINN.

[_Approaching._] Now may we sound the call to the weapon-sports on
the green, if so please you, my lord.

HÅKON.

Good. To-day will we give up to nought but merriment; to-morrow we
must turn our thoughts again to the Ribbungs and the Earl of Orkney.

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

Ay, he denies to pay tribute, is it not so?

HÅKON.

Were I once well rid of the Ribbungs, I would myself fare westward.

[HÅKON _goes towards the daïs, gives his hand to_ MARGRETE, _and
leads her out to the right; the others gradually follow._

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

[_To_ IVAR BODDE.] Who is the man called Jostein Tamb?

IVAR BODDE.

There is a trader from Orkney who bears that name.

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

From Orkney? So, so! And now he sails home again?

IVAR BODDE.

So I think.

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

[_Softly._] With a precious freight, Ivar Bodde.

IVAR BODDE.

Corn and raiment, most like.

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

And a letter from Earl Skule.

IVAR BODDE.

[_Starting._] To whom?

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

I know not; it bore the King’s seal——

IVAR BODDE.

[_Seizes him by the arm._] Lord Bishop,—is it as you say?

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

Hush! Do not mix me up in the matter.

[_Retires._

IVAR BODDE.

Then must I straightway——Dagfinn the Peasant! Dagfinn! Dagfinn——!

[_Pushes through the crowd towards the door._

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

[_In a tone of commiseration, to_ GREGORIUS JONSSON.] Never a day
but one or another must suffer in goods or freedom.

GREGORIUS JONSSON.

Who is it now?

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

A poor trader,—Jostein Tamb methinks they called him.

GREGORIUS JONSSON.

Jostein——?

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

Dagfinn the Peasant would forbid him to set sail.

GREGORIUS JONSSON.

Dagfinn, would forbid him, say you?

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

He went even now.

GREGORIUS JONSSON.

Pardon, my lord; I must make speed——

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

Ay, do even so, my dear lord;—Dagfinn the Peasant is so hasty.

[GREGORIUS JONSSON _hastens out to the right along with the
remainder of the company; only_ EARL SKULE _and_ BISHOP
NICHOLAS _are left behind in the hall._

EARL SKULE.

[_Walks up and down in deep thought; he seems suddenly to awaken;
looks round him, and says:_] How still it has become here of a
sudden!

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

The King has gone.

EARL SKULE.

And every one has followed him.

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

All, save us.

EARL SKULE.

It is a great thing to be King.

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

[_Tentatively._] Are you fain to try it, Earl?

EARL SKULE.

[_With a serious smile._] I _have_ tried it; every night that brings
me sleep makes me King of Norway.

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

Dreams forbode.

EARL SKULE.

Ay, and tempt.

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

Not you, surely. In bygone days, that I could understand—but now,
when you hold a third part of the kingdom, rule as the first man in
the land, and are the Queen’s father——

EARL SKULE.

Now most of all—now most of all.

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

Hide nothing! Confess; for verily I can see a great pain is gnawing
you.

EARL SKULE.

Now most of all, I say. _This_ is the great curse that lies upon my
whole life: to stand so near to the highest,—with an abyss between.
One leap, and on the other side are the kingship, and the purple
robe, the throne, the might, and all! I have it daily before my
eyes—but can _never_ reach it.

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

True, Earl, true.

EARL SKULE.

When they made Guthorm Sigurdsson king, I was in the full strength
of my youth. It was as though a voice cried aloud within me: Away
with the child,—I am the man, the strong man!—But Guthorm was the
king’s son; there yawned an abyss between me and the throne.

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

And you dared not venture——

EARL SKULE.

Then Erling Steinvæg was chosen by the Slittungs. The voice cried
within me again: Skule is a greater chieftain than Erling Steinvæg!
But I must needs have broken with the Birchlegs,—_that_ was the
abyss that time.

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

And Erling became king of the Slittungs, and after of the Ribbungs,
and still you waited!

EARL SKULE.

I waited for Guthorm to die.

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

And Guthorm died, and Inge Bårdsson, your brother, became king.

EARL SKULE.

Then I waited for my brother’s death. He was sickly from the first;
every morning, when we met at holy mass, I would cast stolen glances
to see whether his sickness increased. Every twitch of pain that
crossed his face was as a puff of wind in my sails, and bore me
nearer to the throne. Every sigh he breathed in his agony sounded to
me like an echoing trumpet-blast, like a herald from afar,
proclaiming that the throne should soon be mine. Thus I tore up by
the roots every thought of brotherly kindness; and Inge died, and
Håkon came—and the Birchlegs made _him_ king.

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

And you waited.

EARL SKULE.

Methought help must come from above. I felt the kingly strength
within me, and I was growing old; every day that passed was a day
taken from my life-work. Each evening I thought: To-morrow will come
the miracle that shall strike him down and set me in the empty seat.

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

Small was then Håkon’s power; he was no more than a child; it wanted
but a single step from you—yet you took it not.

EARL SKULE.

That step was hard to take; it would have parted me from my kindred
and from all my friends.

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

Ay, _there_ is the rub, Earl Skule,—_that_ is the curse which has
lain upon your life. You would fain know every way open at need,—you
dare not break all your bridges and keep only one, defend it alone,
and on it conquer or fall. You lay snares for your foe, you set
traps for his feet, and hang sharp swords over his head; you strew
poison in every dish, and you spread a hundred nets for him; but
when he walks into your toils you dare not draw the string; if he
stretch out his hand for the poison, you think it safer he should
fall by the sword; if he is like to be caught in the morning, you
hold it wiser to wait till eventide.

EARL SKULE.

[_Looking earnestly at him._] And what would _you_ do, my lord
Bishop?

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

Speak not of me; my work is to build up thrones in this land, not to
sit on them and rule.

EARL SKULE.

[_After a short pause._] Answer me _one_ thing, my honoured lord,
and answer me truly. How comes it that Håkon can follow the straight
path so unflinchingly? He is no wiser, no bolder than I.

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

Who does the greatest work in this world?

EARL SKULE.

The greatest man.

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

But who is the greatest man?

EARL SKULE.

The bravest.

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

So says the warrior. A priest would say: the man of greatest
faith,—a philosopher: the most learned. But it is none of these,
Earl Skule. The most fortunate man[31] is the greatest man. It is
the most fortunate man that does the greatest deeds—he whom the
cravings of his time seize like a passion, begetting thoughts he
himself cannot fathom, and pointing to paths which lead he knows not
whither, but which he follows and must follow till he hears the
people shout for joy, and, looking around him with wondering eyes,
finds that he has done a mighty deed.

EARL SKULE.

Ay, there is that unswerving confidence in Håkon.

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

It is that which the Romans called _ingenium_.—Truly I am not strong
in Latin; but ’twas called _ingenium_.

EARL SKULE.

[_Thoughtfully at first, afterwards in increasing excitement._] Is
Håkon made of other clay than mine? The fortunate man?—Ay, does not
everything thrive with him? Does not everything shape itself for the
best, when he is concerned? Even the peasants note it; they say the
trees bear fruit twice, and the fowls hatch out two broods every
summer, whilst Håkon is king. Vermeland, where he burned and
harried, stands smiling with its houses built afresh, and its
cornlands bending heavy-eared before the breeze. ’Tis as though
blood and ashes fertilised the land where Håkon’s armies pass; ’tis
as though the Lord clothed with double verdure what Håkon has
trampled down; ’tis as though the holy powers made haste to blot out
all evil in his track. And how easy has been his path to the throne!
He needed that Inge should die early, and Inge died: his youth
needed to be watched and warded, and his men kept watch and ward
around him; he needed the ordeal, and his mother arose and bore the
iron for him.

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

[_With an involuntary outburst._] But we—we two——!

EARL SKULE.

We?

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

You, I would say—what of you?

EARL SKULE.

The right is Håkon’s, Bishop.

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

The right is his, for he is the fortunate one; ’tis even the summit
of fortune, to have the right. But by what right has Håkon the
right, and not you?

EARL SKULE.

[_After a short pause._] There are things I pray God to save me from
thinking upon.

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

Saw you never an old picture in Christ’s Church at Nidaros? It shows
the Deluge rising and rising over all the hills, so that there is
but one single peak left above the waters. Up it clambers a whole
household, father and mother and son and son’s wife and
children;—and the son is hurling the father back into the flood to
gain better footing; and he will cast his mother down and his wife
and all his children, to win to the top himself;—for up there he
sees a handsbreadth of ground, where he may keep life in him for an
hour.—That, Earl, that is the saga of wisdom, and the saga of every
wise man.

EARL SKULE.

But the right!

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

The son _had_ the right. He had strength, and the craving for
life;—fulfil your cravings and use your strength: so much right has
every man.

EARL SKULE.

Ay, for that which is good.

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

Words, empty words! There is neither good nor evil, up nor down,
high nor low. You must forget such words, else will you never take
the last stride, never leap the abyss. [_In a subdued voice and
insistently._] You must not hate a party or a cause for that the
party or the cause would have _this_ and not _that_; but you must
hate every man of a party for that he is against you, and you must
hate all who gather round a cause, for that the cause clashes with
your will. Whatever is helpful to you, is good—whatever lays
stumbling-blocks in your path is evil.

EARL SKULE.

[_Gazing thoughtfully before him._] What has that throne not cost
me, which yet I have not reached! And what has it cost Håkon, who
now sits in it so securely! I was young, and I forswore my sweet
secret love to ally myself with a powerful house. I prayed to the
saints that I might be blessed with a son—I got only daughters.

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

Håkon will have sons, Earl—mark that!

EARL SKULE.

[_Crossing to the window on the right._] Ay—all things fall out to
Håkon’s wish.

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

And you—will you suffer yourself to be outlawed from happiness all
your life through? Are you blind? See you not that it is a stronger
might than the Birchlegs that stands at Håkon’s back, and furthers
all his life-work? He has help from above, from—from those that are
against you—from those that have been your enemies, even from your
birth! And will you bow before these your enemies? Rouse you, man;
straighten your back! To what end got you your masterful soul?
Bethink you that the first great deed in all the world was done by
one who rose against a mighty realm!

EARL SKULE.

Who?

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

The angel who rose against the light!

EARL SKULE.

And was hurled into the bottomless pit——

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

[_Wildly._] And founded there a kingdom, and made himself a king, a
mighty king—mightier than any of the ten thousand—earls up yonder!

[_Sinks down upon a bench beside the table._

EARL SKULE.

[_Looks long at him._] Bishop Nicholas, are you something more or
something less than a man?

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

[_Smiling._] I am in the state of innocence: I know not good from
evil.

EARL SKULE.

[_Half to himself._] Why did they send me into the world, if they
meant not to order it better for me? Håkon has so firm and
unswerving a faith in himself—all his men have so firm and
unswerving a faith in him——

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

Let it not be seen that _you_ have no such faith in yourself! Speak
as though you had it, swear great oaths that you have it—and all
will believe you.

EARL SKULE.

Had I a son! Had I but a son, to take all the great heritage after
me!

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

[_Eagerly._] Earl—if you _had_ a son?

EARL SKULE.

I have none.

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

Håkon will have sons.

EARL SKULE.

[_Wringing his hands._] And is king-born!

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

[_Rising._] Earl—if he were not so?

EARL SKULE.

Has he not proved it? The ordeal——

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

And if he were not—in spite of the ordeal?

EARL SKULE.

Do you say that God lied in the issue of the ordeal?

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

What was it Inga of Varteig called upon God to witness?

EARL SKULE.

That the child she bore in the eastland, in Borgasyssel, was the son
of Håkon Sverresson.

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

[_Nods, looks round, and says softly._] And if King Håkon were not
that child?

EARL SKULE.

[_Starts a step backwards._] Great God——! [_Controls himself._] It
is beyond belief.

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

Hearken to me, Earl Skule. I have lived seventy years and six; it
begins to go sharply downhill with me now, and I dare not take this
secret with me over yonder——

EARL SKULE.

Speak, speak! Is he not the son of Håkon Sverresson?

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

Hear me. It was known to none that Inga was with child. Håkon
Sverresson was lately dead, and doubtless she feared Inge Bårdsson,
who was then king, and you, and—well, and the Baglers[32] too
mayhap. She was brought to bed secretly in the house of Trond the
Priest, in Heggen parish, and after nine days she departed
homewards; but the child remained a whole year with the priest, she
not daring to look to it, and none knowing that it breathed saved
Trond and his two sons.

EARL SKULE.

Ay, ay—and then?

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

When the child was a year old, it could scarce be kept hidden
longer. So Inga made the matter known to Erlend of Huseby—an old
Birchleg of Sverre’s days, as you know.

EARL SKULE.

Well?

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

He and other chiefs from the Uplands took the child, bore it over
the mountains in midwinter, and brought it to the King, who was then
at Nidaros.

EARL SKULE.

And yet you can say that——?

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

Needless to say, ’twas a dangerous task for a humble priest to rear
a king’s child. So soon as the child was born, he laid the matter
before one of his superiors in the church, and prayed for his
counsel. This his superior bade Trond send the true king’s son with
secrecy to a place of safety, and give Inga another, if she or the
Birchlegs should afterwards ask for her child.

EARL SKULE.

[_Indignantly._] And who was the hound that gave that counsel?

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

It was I.

EARL SKULE.

You? Ay, you have ever hated the race of Sverre.

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

I deemed it not safe for the king’s son to fall into your hands.

EARL SKULE.

But the priest——?

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

Promised to do as I bade.

EARL SKULE.

[_Seizing him by the arm._] And Håkon is the other child?

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

If the priest kept his promise.

EARL SKULE.

_If_ he kept it?

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

Trond the Priest departed the land the same winter that the child
was brought to King Inge. He journeyed to Thomas Beckett’s grave,
and afterwards abode in England till his death.

EARL SKULE.

He departed the land, say you? Then must he have changed the
children and dreaded the vengeance of the Birchlegs.

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

Or he did _not_ change the children, and dreaded _my_ vengeance.

EARL SKULE.

Which surmise hold you for the truth?

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

Either may well be true.

EARL SKULE.

But the priest’s sons of whom you spoke?

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

They went with the crusaders to the Holy Land.

EARL SKULE.

And there have since been no tidings of them?

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

Ay, tidings there have been.

EARL SKULE.

Where are they?

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

They were drowned in the Greek Sea on the journey forth.

EARL SKULE.

And Inga——?

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

Knows nought, either of the priest’s confession or of my counsel.

EARL SKULE.

Her child was but nine days old when she left it, you said?

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

Ay, and the child she next saw was over a year——

EARL SKULE.

Then no living creature can here bring light! [_Paces rapidly to and
fro._] Almighty God, can this be true? Håkon—the King—he who holds
sway over all this land, not born of royal blood!—And why should it
not be like enough? Has not all fortune miraculously followed
him?—Why not this also, to be taken as a child from a poor cottar’s
hut and laid in a king’s cradle——?

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

Whilst the whole people believes that he is the king’s son——

EARL SKULE.

Whilst _he himself_ believes it, Bishop—_that_ is the heart of his
fortune, _that_ is the girdle of strength! [_Goes to the window._]
See how bravely he sits his horse! None rides as he does. His eyes
are filled with laughing, dancing sunshine; he looks forth into the
day as though he knew himself created to go forward, ever forward.
[_Turns towards the_ BISHOP.] I am a king’s arm, mayhap a king’s
brain as well; but he is the whole King.

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

Yet no king after all, mayhap.

EARL SKULE.

Mayhap no king after all.

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

[_Lays his hand on the Earl’s shoulder._] Hearken to me, Earl
Skule——

EARL SKULE.

[_Still looking out._] There sits the Queen. Håkon speaks gently to
her; she turns red and white with joy. He took her to wife because
it was wise to choose the daughter of the mightiest man in the land.
There was then no thought of love for her in his heart;—but it will
come; Håkon has fortune with him. She will shed light over his
life——[_Stops, and cries out in wonder._] What is _this_?

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

What?

EARL SKULE.

Dagfinn the Peasant bursts violently through the crowd. Now he is
giving the King some tidings.

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

[_Looking out from behind the_ EARL.] Håkon seems angered—does he
not? He clenches his fist——

EARL SKULE.

He looks hitherward—what can it be?

[_About to go._

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

[_Holding him back._] Hearken to me, Earl Skule—there may yet be one
means of winning assurance as to Håkon’s right.

EARL SKULE.

One means, you say?

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

Trond the Priest, ere he died, wrote a letter telling his whole
tale, and took the sacrament in witness of its truth.

EARL SKULE.

And that letter—for God’s pity’s sake—where is it?

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

You must know that——[_Looks towards the door._] Hush!—here comes the
King.

EARL SKULE.

The letter, Bishop—the letter!

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

The King is here.

[HÅKON _enters, followed by his Guard and many guests. Immediately
afterwards,_ MARGRETE _appears; she seems anxious and alarmed, and
is about to rush up to the King, when she is restrained by_ LADY
RAGNHILD, _who, with other ladies, has followed her._ SIGRID _stands
somewhat apart, towards the back. The_ EARL’S _men appear uneasy,
and gather in a group on the right, where_ SKULE _is standing, but
some way behind him._

HÅKON.

[_In strong but repressed excitement._] Earl Skule, who is king in
this land?

EARL SKULE.

Who is king?

HÅKON.

That was my question. I bear the kingly title, but who holds the
kingly might?

EARL SKULE.

The kingly might should dwell with him who has the kingly right.

HÅKON.

So should it be; but is it so?

EARL SKULE.

Do you summon me to judgment?

HÅKON.

That do I; for that right I have toward every man in the land.

EARL SKULE.

I fear not to answer for my dealings.

HÅKON.

Well for us all if you can. [_Mounts a step of throne-daïs, and
leans upon one arm of the throne._] Here stand I as your king, and
ask. Know you that Jon, Earl of Orkney, has risen against me?

EARL SKULE.

Yes.

HÅKON.

That he denies to pay me tribute?

EARL SKULE.

Yes.

HÅKON.

And is it true that you, Sir Earl, have this day sent him a letter?

EARL SKULE.

Who says so?

IVAR BODDE.

That do I.

DAGFINN.

Jostein Tamb dared not deny to carry it, since it bore the King’s
seal.

HÅKON.

You write to the King’s foes under the King’s seal, although the
King knows nought of what is written?

EARL SKULE.

So have I done for many a year, with your good will.

HÅKON.

Ay, in the days of your regency.

EARL SKULE.

Never have you had aught but good thereby. Earl Jon wrote to me
praying that I would mediate on his behalf; he offered peace, but on
terms dishonourable to the King. The war in Vermeland has weighed
much upon your mind; had this matter been left to you, Earl Jon had
come too lightly off. I can deal better with him.

HÅKON.

’Twas our will to deal with him ourself.—And what answer made you?

EARL SKULE.

Read my letter.

HÅKON.

Give it me!

EARL SKULE.

I deemed you had it.

DAGFINN.

Nay, you know better than that. Gregorius Jonsson was too swift of
foot; when we came on board, the letter was gone.

EARL SKULE.

[_Turns to_ GREGORIUS JONSSON.] Sir Baron, give the King the letter.

GREGORIUS JONSSON.

[_Coming close to him, uneasily._] Hearken Earl——!

EARL SKULE.

What now?

GREGORIUS JONSSON.

[_Softly._] Bethink you, there were sharp words in it concerning the
King.

EARL SKULE.

My words I shall answer for. The letter!

GREGORIUS JONSSON.

I have it not.

EARL SKULE.

You have it not!

GREGORIUS JONSSON.

Dagfinn the Peasant was at our heels. I snatched the letter from
Jostein Tamb, tied a stone to it——

EARL SKULE.

Well?

GREGORIUS JONSSON.

It lies at the bottom of the fiord.

EARL SKULE.

You have done ill—ill.

HÅKON.

I await the letter, Sir Earl.

EARL SKULE.

I cannot give it you.

HÅKON.

You _cannot_!

EARL SKULE.

[_Advancing a step towards the_ KING.] My pride brooks not to be put
to shifts, as you and your men would call it——

HÅKON.

[_Controlling his rising wrath._] And so——?

EARL SKULE.

In one word—I _will_ not give it you!

HÅKON.

Then you defy me!

EARL SKULE.

Since so it must be—yes, I defy you.

IVAR BODDE.

[_Forcibly._] Now, my lord King, I scarce think you or any man can
now need further proof!

DAGFINN.

Nay, now I think we know the Earl’s mind.

HÅKON.

[_Coldly, to the_ EARL.] You will hand the Great Seal to Ivar Bodde.

MARGRETE.

[_Rushes with clasped hands towards the daïs, where the_ KING _is
standing._] Håkon, be a kind and gracious husband to me!

[HÅKON _makes an imperative gesture towards her; she hides
her face in her veil, and goes up towards her mother
again._

EARL SKULE.

[_To_ IVAR BODDE.] Here is the Great Seal.

IVAR BODDE.

This was to be the last evening of the feast. It has ended in a
heavy sorrow for the King; but sooner or later it needs must come,
and methinks every true man must rejoice that it has come.

EARL SKULE.