Chapter VI: Part 6

Well, then let us reign by turns; let each bear sway for three
years! You have reigned long; now my turn has come. Depart from the
land for three years;—I will be king the while; I will even out your
paths for you against your home-coming; I will guide all things for
the best;—it wears and blunts the senses to sit ever on the watch.
Håkon, hear me—three years each; let us wear the crown by turns!

HÅKON.

Think you my crown would fit well on your brow?

DUKE SKULE.

No crown is too wide for me!

HÅKON.

It needs a God-sent right and a God-sent calling to wear the crown.

DUKE SKULE.

And know you so surely that you have a God-sent right?

HÅKON.

I have God’s own word for it.

DUKE SKULE.

Rest not too surely on that. Had the Bishop had time to speak—but
that were bootless now; you would not believe me. Ay, truly you have
mighty allies on high; but I defy you none the less! You will not
reign by turns with me? Well—then must we try the last
resort;—Håkon, let us two fight for it, man to man, with heavy
weapons, for life or death!

HÅKON.

Speak you in jest, my lord?

DUKE SKULE.

I speak for my life-work and for my soul’s salvation!

HÅKON.

Then is there small hope for the saving of your soul.

DUKE SKULE.

You will not fight with me? You shall, you shall!

HÅKON.

Oh blinded man! I cannot but pity you. You think ’tis the Lord’s
calling that draws you toward the throne; you see not that ’tis
nought but pride of heart. What is it that allures you? The royal
circlet, the purple-bordered mantle, the right to be seated three
steps above the floor;—pitiful, pitiful: Were that kingship, I would
cast it into your hat, as I cast a groat to a beggar.

DUKE SKULE.

You have known me since your childhood, and you judge me thus!

HÅKON.

You have wisdom and courage and all noble gifts of the mind; you are
born to stand nearest a king, but not to be a king yourself.

DUKE SKULE.

That will we now put to the proof!

HÅKON.

Name me a single king’s-task you achieved in all the years you were
regent for me! Were the Baglers or the Ribbungs ever mightier than
then? You were in ripe manhood, yet the land was harried by
rebellious factions; did you quell a single one of them? I was young
and untried when I came to the helm—look at me—all fell before me
when I became king; there are no Baglers, no Ribbungs left!

DUKE SKULE.

Beware how you boast of that; for _there_ lies the greatest danger.
Party must stand against party, claim against claim, region against
region, if the king is to have the might. Every village, every
family, must either need him or fear him. If you strike at the root
of faction, at the same stroke you kill your own power.

HÅKON.

And you would be king—you, who think such thoughts! You had been
well fitted for a chieftain’s part in Erling Skakke’s days; but the
time has grown away from you, and you know it not. See you not,
then, that Norway’s realm, as Harald and Olaf built it up, may be
likened to a church that stands as yet unconsecrate? The walls soar
aloft with mighty buttresses, the vaultings have a noble span, the
spire points upward, like a fir-tree in the forest; but the life,
the throbbing heart, the fresh blood-stream, is lacking to the work;
God’s living spirit is not breathed into it; it stands
unconsecrate.—_I_ will bring consecration! Norway has been a
_kingdom_, it shall become a _people_. The Trönder has stood against
the man of Viken, the Agdeman against the Hordalander, the
Halogalander against the Sogndalesman; all shall be one hereafter,
and all shall feel and know that they are one! _That_ is the task
which God has laid on my shoulders; _that_ is the work which now
lies before the King of Norway. That life-work, Duke, I think you
were best to leave untried, for truly it is beyond you.

DUKE SKULE.

[_Impressed._] To unite——? To unite the Trönders and the men of
Viken,—all Norway——? [_Sceptically._] ’Tis impossible! Norway’s saga
tells of no such thing!

HÅKON.

For you ’tis impossible, for you can but work out the old saga
afresh; for me, ’tis as easy as for the falcon to cleave the clouds.

DUKE SKULE.

[_In uneasy agitation._] To unite the whole people—to awaken it so
that it shall know itself _one_! Whence got you so strange a
thought? It runs through me like ice and fire. [_Vehemently._] It
comes from the devil, Håkon; it shall never be carried through while
I have strength to buckle on my helm.

HÅKON.

’Tis from God the thought comes to me, and never shall I let it slip
while I bear St. Olaf’s circlet on my brow!

DUKE SKULE.

Then must St. Olaf’s circlet fall from your brow!

HÅKON.

Who will make it fall?

DUKE SKULE.

I, if none other.

HÅKON.

You, Skule, will be harmless after to-morrow’s Assembly.

DUKE SKULE.

Håkon! Tempt not God! Drive me not out upon the last ledge of the
deep!

HÅKON.

[_Points to the door._] Go, my lord—and be it forgotten that we have
spoken with sharp tongues this night.

DUKE SKULE.

[_Looks hard at him for a moment, and says:_] Next time, ’twill be
with sharper tongues we speak.

[_Goes to the back._

HÅKON.

[_After a short pause._] He threatens! No, no, it cannot come to
that. He must, he shall give way and do my will; I have need of that
strong arm, that cunning brain.—Whatsoever courage and wisdom and
strength there maybe in this land, all gifts that God has endowed
men withal, are but granted them to my uses. For my service did all
noble gifts fall to Duke Skule’s share; to defy me is to defy
Heaven; ’tis my duty to punish whosoever shall set himself up
against Heaven’s will—for Heaven has done so much for me.

DAGFINN THE PEASANT.

[_Enters from the back._] Be on your guard to-night, my lord; the
Duke has surely evil in his mind.

HÅKON.

What say you?

DAGFINN.

What may be his drift, I know not; but sure am I that something is
brewing.

HÅKON.

Can he think to fall upon us? Impossible, impossible!

DAGFINN.

No, ’tis something else. His ships lie clear for sailing; he has
summoned an Assembly on board them.

HÅKON.

You must mistake——! Go, Dagfinn, and bring me sure tidings.

DAGFINN.

Ay ay, trust to me.

[_Goes._

HÅKON.

No,—’tis not to be thought of! The Duke dare not rise against me.
God will not suffer it—God, who has hitherto guided all things for
me so marvellously. I must have peace now, for ’tis now I must set
about my work!—I have done so little yet; but I hear the unerring
voice of the Lord calling to me: Thou shalt do a great king’s-work
in Norway!

GREGORIUS JONSSON.

[_Enters from the back._] My lord and King!

HÅKON.

Gregorius Jonsson! Come _you_ hither?

GREGORIUS JONSSON.

I offer myself for your service. Thus far have I followed the Duke;
but now I dare follow him no further.

HÅKON.

What has befallen?

GREGORIUS JONSSON.

That which no man will believe, when ’tis rumoured through the land.

HÅKON.

Speak, speak!

GREGORIUS JONSSON.

I tremble to hear the sound of my own words; know then——

[_He seizes the_ KING’S _arm and whispers._

HÅKON.

[_Starts backwards with a cry._] Ha, are you distraught?

GREGORIUS JONSSON.

Would to God I were.

HÅKON.

Unheard of! No, it cannot be true!

GREGORIUS JONSSON.

By Christ’s dear blood, so is it!

HÅKON.

Go, go; sound the trumpet-call for my guard; get all my men under
arms.

[GREGORIUS JONSSON _goes._

HÅKON.

[_Paces the room once or twice, then goes quickly up to the door of_
MARGRETE’S _chamber, knocks at it, takes one or two more turns
through the room, then goes again to the door, knocks, and calls._]
Margrete!

[_Goes on pacing up and down._

MARGRETE.

[_In the doorway, attired for the night, with her hair down; she has
a red cloak round her shoulders, holding it close together over her
breast._] Håkon! Is it you?

HÅKON.

Yes, yes; come hither.

MARGRETE.

Oh, but you must not look at me; I was in bed already.

HÅKON.

I have other things to think of.

MARGRETE.

What has befallen.

HÅKON.

Give me a good counsel! I have even now received the worst tidings.

MARGRETE.

[_Alarmed._] What tidings, Håkon?

HÅKON.

That there are now two kings in Norway.

MARGRETE.

Two kings in Norway!—Håkon, where is my father?

HÅKON.

He has proclaimed himself king on board his ship; now he is sailing
to Nidaros to be crowned.

MARGRETE.

Oh God, thou almighty——!

[_Sinks down on the bench, covers her face with her hands
and weeps._]

HÅKON.

Two kings in the land!

MARGRETE.

My husband the one—my father the other!

HÅKON.

[_Pacing restlessly up and down._] Give me a good counsel, Margrete!
Should I cross the country by way of the Uplands, come first to
Nidaros, and prevent the crowning? No, it may not be done; My men
are too few; there in the north he is more powerful than I.—Give me
counsel; how can I have the Duke slain, ere he come to Nidaros?

MARGRETE.

[_Imploringly, with folded hands._] Håkon, Håkon!

HÅKON.

Can you not hit upon a good device, I say, to have the Duke slain?

MARGRETE.

[_Sinks down from the bench in agony and remains kneeling._] Oh, can
you so utterly forget that he is my father?

HÅKON.

Your father——; ay, ay, it is true; I had forgotten.

[_Raises her up._] Sit, sit, Margrete; comfort you; do not weep; you
have no fault in this. [_Goes over to the window._] Duke Skule will
be worse for me than all other foemen! God, God,—why hast thou
stricken me so sorely, when I have in nowise sinned! [_A knock at
the door in the back; he starts, listens, and cries:_] Who knocks so
late?

INGA’S VOICE.

[_Without._] One who is a-cold, Håkon!

HÅKON.

[_With a cry._] My mother!

MARGRETE.

[_Springs up._] Inga!

HÅKON.

[_Rushes to the door and opens it; Inga is sitting on the
doorstep._] My mother! Sitting like a dog outside her son’s door!
And I ask why God has stricken me!

INGA.

[_Stretches out her arms towards him._] Håkon, my child! Blessings
upon you!

HÅKON.

[_Raising her up._] Come—come in; here are light and warmth!

INGA.

_May_ I come in to you?

HÅKON.

Never shall we part again.

INGA.

My son—my King—oh, but you are good and loving! I stood in a corner
and saw you, as you came from the Bishop’s Palace; you looked so
sorrowful; I _could_ not part from you thus.

HÅKON.

God be thanked for that! No one, truly, could have come to me more
welcome than you. Margrete—my mother—I have sorely sinned; I have
barred my heart against you two, who are so rich in love.

MARGRETE.

[_Falls on his neck._] Oh, Håkon, my beloved husband; do I stand
near you now?

HÅKON.

Ay, near me, near me; not to give me cunning counsels, but to shed
light over my path. Come what will, I feel the Lord’s strength
within me!

DAGFINN THE PEASANT.

[_Enters hastily from the back._] My lord, my lord! The worst has
befallen!

HÅKON.

[_Smiles confidently while he holds_ MARGRETE _and_ INGA _closely to
him._] I know it; but there is nought to fear, good Dagfinn! If
there be two kings in Norway, there is but one in Heaven—and He will
set all straight!

ACT FOURTH.

_The great hall in Oslo Palace._ KING SKULE _is feasting with the
Guard and his Chiefs. In front, on the left, stands the
throne, where_ SKULE _sits, richly attired, with a purple
mantle and the royal circlet on his head. The supper-table, by
which the guests are seated, stretches from the throne towards
the background. Opposite to_ SKULE _sit_ PAUL FLIDA _and_ BÅRD
BRATTE. _Some of the humbler guests are standing, to the
right. It is late evening; the hall is brightly lighted. The
banquet is drawing to a close; the men are very merry, and
some of them drunk; they drink to each other, laugh, and all
talk together._

PAUL FLIDA.

[_Rises and strikes the table._] Silence in the hall; Jatgeir Skald
will say forth his song in honour of King Skule.

JATGEIR.

[_Stands out in the middle of the floor._[36]

Duke Skule he summoned the Örething;[37]
when ’twas mass-time in Nidaros town;
and the bells rang and swords upon bucklers clashed bravely
when Duke Skule he donned the crown.

King Skule marched over the Dovrefjeld,
his host upon snow-shoes sped;
the Gudbranddalesman he grovelled for grace,
but his hoard must e’en ransom his head.

King Skule south over Miösen fared,—
the Uplander cursed at his banner;
King Skule hasted through Raumarike to Låka in Nannestad manor.

’Twas all in the holy Shrove-tide week
we met with the Birchleg horde;
Earl Knut was their captain—the swords with loud tongue
in the suit for the throne made award.

They say of a truth that since Sverre’s days
was never so hot a fight;
red-sprent, like warriors’ winding-sheets,
grew the upland that erst lay white.

They took to their heels did the Birchenlegs,
flinging from them both buckler and bill there;
many hundreds, though, took to their heels nevermore,
for they lay and were icily chill there.

No man knows where King Håkon hideth;—
King Skule stands safe at the helm.
All hail and long life to thee, lord, in thy state
as King of all Norway’s realm!

SKULE’S MEN.

[_Spring up with loud jubilation, hold goblets and beakers
aloft, clash their weapons, and repeat:_

All hail and long life to thee, lord, in thy state as King of all
Norway’s realm!

KING SKULE.

Thanks for the song, Jatgeir Skald! ’Tis as I best like it; for it
gives my men no less praise than myself.

JATGEIR.

The King is honoured when his men are praised.

KING SKULE.

Take as guerdon this arm-ring, stay with me, and be of my household;
I will have many skalds about me.

JATGEIR.

’Twill need many, my lord, if all your great deeds are to be sung.

KING SKULE.

I will be threefold more bountiful than Håkon; the skald’s song
shall be honoured and rewarded like all other noble deeds, so long
as I am king. Be seated; now you belong to my household; all you
have need of shall be freely given you.

JATGEIR.

[_Seats himself._] Ere long there will be a dearth of what I most
need, my lord.

KING SKULE.

What mean you?

JATGEIR.

Foes to King Skule, whose flight and fall I can sing.

MANY OF THE MEN.

[_Amid laughter and applause._] Well said, Icelander!

PAUL FLIDA.

[_To_ JATGEIR.] The song was good; but ’tis known there goes a spice
of lying to every skald-work, and yours was not without it.

JATGEIR.

Lying, Sir Marshal?

PAUL FLIDA.

Ay; you say no man knows where King Håkon is hiding; that is not
true; we have certain tidings that Håkon is at Nidaros.

KING SKULE.

[_Smiling._] He has claimed homage for the King-child, and given it
the kingly title.

JATGEIR.

That have I heard; but I knew not that any man could give away that
which he himself does not possess.

KING SKULE.

’Tis easiest to give what you yourself do not possess.

BÅRD BRATTE.

But it can scarce be easy to beg your way in midwinter from Bergen
to Nidaros.

JATGEIR.

The fortunes of the Birchlegs move in a ring; they began hungry and
frozen, and now they end in like case.

PAUL FLIDA.

’Tis rumoured in Bergen that Håkon has forsworn the Church and all
that is holy; he heard not mass on New Year’s day.

BÅRD BRATTE.

He could plead lawful hindrance, Paul; he stood all day cutting his
silver goblets and dishes to pieces—he had naught else wherewith to
pay his household.

[_Laughter and loud talk among the guests._

KING SKULE.

[_Raises his goblet._] I drink to you, Bård Bratte, and thank you
and all my new men. You fought manfully for me at Låka, and bore a
great part in the victory.

BÅRD BRATTE.

It was the first time I fought under you, my lord; but I soon felt
that ’tis easy to conquer when such a chieftain as you rides at the
head of the host. But I would we had not slain so many and chased
them so far; for now I fear ’twill be long ere they dare face us
again.

KING SKULE.

Wait till the spring: we shall meet them again, never fear. Earl
Knut lies with the remnant at Tunsberg rock, and Arnbiörn Jonsson is
gathering a force eastward in Viken; when they deem themselves
strong enough, they will soon let us hear from them.

BÅRD BRATTE.

They will never dare to, after the great slaughter at Låka.

KING SKULE.

Then will we lure them forth with cunning.

MANY VOICES.

Ay, ay—do so, lord King!

BÅRD BRATTE.

You have good store of cunning, King Skule. Your foemen have never
warning ere you fall upon them, and you are ever there where they
least await you.

PAUL FLIDA.

’Tis therefore that the Birchlegs call us Vårbælgs.[38]

KING SKULE.

Others say Vargbælgs; but this I swear, that when next we meet, the
Birchlegs shall learn how hard it is to turn such Wolf-skins inside
out.

BÅRD BRATTE.

With their good will shall we never meet-’twill be a chase the whole
country round.

KING SKULE.

Ay, that it shall be. First we must purge Viken, and make sure of
all these eastward parts; then will we get our ships together, and
sail round the Naze and up the coast to Nidaros.

BÅRD BRATTE

And when you come in such wise to Nidaros, I scare think the monks
will deny to move St. Olaf’s shrine out to the mote-stead, as they
did in the autumn, when we swore allegiance.

KING SKULE.

The shrine _shall_ out; I will bear my kingship in all ways
lawfully.

JATGEIR.

And I promise you to sing a great death-song, when you have slain
the Sleeper.

[_An outburst of laughter among the men._

KING SKULE.

The Sleeper?

JATGEIR.

Know you not, my lord, that King Håkon is called “Håkon the
Sleeper,” because he sits as though benumbed ever since you came to
the throne?

BÅRD BRATTE.

They say he lies ever with his eyes closed. Doubtless he dreams that
he is still king.

KING SKULE.

Let him dream; he shall never dream himself back into the kingship.

JATGEIR.

Let his sleep be long and dreamless, then shall I have stuff for
songs.

THE MEN.

Ay, ay, do as the skald says!

KING SKULE.

When so many good men counsel as one, the counsel must be good; yet
will we not talk now of that matter. But one promise I will make:
each of my men shall inherit the weapons and harness, and gold and
silver, of whichever one of the enemy he slays; and each man shall
succeed to the dignities of him he lays low. He who slays a baron
shall himself be a baron; he who slays a thane, shall receive his
thaneship; and all they who already hold such dignities and offices,
shall be rewarded after other kingly sort.

THE MEN.

[_Spring up in wild delight._] Hail, hail, King Skule! Lead us
against the Birchlegs!

BÅRD BRATTE.

Now are you sure to conquer in all battles.

PAUL FLIDA.

I claim Dagfinn the Peasant for myself; he owns a good sword that I
have long hankered after.

BÅRD BRATTE.

I will have Bård Torsteinsson’s hauberk; it saved his life at Låka,
for it withstands both cut and thrust.

JATGEIR.

Nay, but let me have it; ’twill fit me better; you shall have five
golden marks in exchange.

BÅRD BRATTE.

Where will you find five golden marks, Skald?

JATGEIR.

I will take them from Gregorius Jonsson when we come northward.

THE MEN.

[_All talking together._] And I will have—I will have——[_The rest
becomes indistinct in the hubbub._

PAUL FLIDA.

Away! Every man to his quarters; bethink you that you are in the
King’s hall.

THE MEN.

Ay, ay—hail to the King, hail to King Skule!

KING SKULE.

To bed now, good fellows! We have sat long over the drinking-table
to-night.

A MAN-AT-ARMS.

[_As the crowd is trooping out._] To-morrow we will cast lots for
the Birchlegs’ goods.

ANOTHER.

Rather leave it to luck!

SEVERAL.

Nay, nay!

OTHERS.

Ay, ay!

BÅRD BRATTE.

Now the Wolf-skins are fighting for the bear-fell.

PAUL FLIDA.

And they have yet to fell the bear.

[_All go out by the back._

KING SKULE.

[_Waits till the men are gone; the tension of his features relaxes;
he sinks upon a bench._] How weary I am, weary to death. To live in
the midst of that swarm day out and day in, to look smilingly ahead
as though I were so immovably assured of right and victory and
fortune. To have no creature with whom I may speak of all that gnaws
me so sorely. [_Rises with a look of terror._] And the battle at
Låka! That I should have conquered there! Håkon sent his host
against me; God was to judge and award between the two kings—and I
conquered, conquered, as never any before has conquered the
Birchlegs! Their shields stood upright in the snow, but there was
none behind them—the Birchlegs took to the woods, and fled over
upland and moor and lea as far as their legs would carry them. The
unbelievable came to pass; Håkon lost and I won. There is a secret
horror in that victory. Thou great God of Heaven! there rules, then,
no certain law on high, that all things must obey? The right carries
with it no conquering might? [_With a change of tone, wildly._] I am
sick, I am sick!—Wherefore should not the right be on my side? May I
not deem that God himself would assure me of it, since he let me
conquer? [_Brooding._] The possibilities are even;—not a
feather-weight more on the one side than on the other; and
yet—[_shakes his head_]—yet the balance dips on Håkon’s part. I have
hatred and hot desire to cast into my scale, yet the balance dips on
Håkon’s part. When the thought of the kingly right comes over me
unawares, ’tis ever he, not I, that is the true king. When I would
see myself as the true king, I must do it with forethought, I must
build up a whole fabric of subtleties, a work of cunning; I must
hold memories aloof, and take faith by storm. It was not so before.
What has befallen to fill me so full of doubt? The burning of the
letter? No—that made the uncertainty eternal, but did not add to it.
Has Håkon done any great and kingly deed in these later days? No,
his greatest deeds were done while I least believed in him. [_Seats
himself on the right._] What is it? Ha, strange! It comes and goes
like a marsh-fire; it dances at the tip of my tongue, as when one
has lost a word and cannot find it. [_Springs up._] Ha! Now I have
it! No——! Yes, yes! Now I have it!—“Norway has been a _kingdom_, it
shall become a _people_; all shall be one, and all shall feel and
know that they are one!” Since Håkon spoke those madman’s words, he
stands ever before me as the rightful king. [_Whispers with fixed
and apprehensive gaze._] What if God’s calling glimmered through
these strange words? If God had garnered up the thought till now,
and would now strew it forth—and had chosen Håkon for his sower?

PAUL FLIDA.

[_Enters from the back._] My lord King, I have tidings for you.

KING SKULE.

Tidings?

PAUL FLIDA.

A man who comes from down the fiord brings news that the Birchlegs
in Tunsberg have launched their ships, and that many men have
gathered in the town in these last days.

KING SKULE.

Good, we will go forth to meet them—to-morrow or the day after.

PAUL FLIDA.

It might chance, my lord King, that the Birchlegs had a mind to meet
us first.

KING SKULE.

They have not ships enough for that, nor men.

PAUL FLIDA.

But Arnbiörn Jonsson is gathering both men and ships, all round in
Viken.

KING SKULE.

The better for us; we will crush them at one blow, as we did at
Låka.

PAUL FLIDA.

My lord, ’tis not so easy to crush the Birchlegs twice following.

KING SKULE.

And wherefore not?

PAUL FLIDA.

Because Norway’s saga tells not that the like has ever befallen.
Shall I send forth scouts to Hoved-isle?

KING SKULE.

’Tis needless; the night is dark, and there is a sea-fog to boot.

PAUL FLIDA.

Well well, the King knows best; but bethink you, my lord, that all
men are against you here in Viken. The townsfolk of Oslo hate you,
and should the Birchlegs come, they will make common cause with
them.

KING SKULE.

[_With animation._] Paul Flida, were it not possible that I could
win over the men of Viken to my side?

PAUL FLIDA.

[_Looks at him in astonishment, and shakes his head._] No, my lord,
it is not possible.

KING SKULE.

And wherefore not?

PAUL FLIDA.

Why, for that you have the Trönders on your side.

KING SKULE.

I will have both the Trönders and the men of Viken!

PAUL FLIDA.

Nay, my lord, that cannot be!

KING SKULE.

Not possible! cannot be! And wherefore—wherefore not?

PAUL FLIDA.

Because the man of Viken is the man of Viken, the Trönder is the
Trönder; because so it has always been, and no saga tells of a time
when it was otherwise.

KING SKULE.

Ay, ay—you are right. Go.

PAUL FLIDA.

And send forth no scouts?

KING SKULE.

Wait till daybreak. [PAUL FLIDA _goes_.] Norway’s saga tells of no
such thing; it has never been so yet; Paul Flida answers me as I
answered Håkon. Are there, then, upward as well as downward steps?
Stands Håkon as high over me as I over Paul Flida? Has Håkon an eye
for unborn thoughts, that is lacking in me? Who stood so high as
Harold Hårfager in the days when every headland had its king, and he
said: Now they must fall—hereafter shall there be but one? He threw
the old saga to the winds, and made a new saga. [_A pause; he paces
up and down lost in thought; then he stops._] Can one man take God’s
calling from another, as he takes weapons and gold from his fallen
foe? Can a Pretender clothe himself in a king’s life-task, as he can
put on the kingly mantle? The oak that is felled to be a ship’s
timber, can it say: Nay, I will be the mast, I will take on me the
task of the fir-tree, point upwards, tall and shining, bear the
golden vane at my top, spread bellying white sails to the sunshine,
and meet the eyes of all men, from afar!—No, no, thou heavy gnarled
oak-trunk, thy place is down in the keel; _there_ shalt thou lie,
and do thy work, unheard-of and unseen by those aloft in the
daylight; it is thou that shalt hinder the ship from being whelmed
in the storm; while the mast with the golden vane and the bellying
sail shall bear it forward toward the new, toward the unknown,
toward alien strands and the saga of the future! [_Vehemently._]
Since Håkon uttered his great king-thought, I can see no other
thought in the world but that only. If I cannot take it and act it
out, I see no other thought to fight for. [_Brooding._] And can I
not make it mine? If I cannot, whence comes my great love for
Håkon’s thought?

JATGEIR.

[_Enters from the back._] Forgive my coming, lord King——

KING SKULE.

You come to my wish, Skald!

JATGEIR.

I overheard some townsfolk at my lodging talking darkly of——

KING SKULE.

Let that wait. Tell me, Skald: you who have fared far abroad in
strange lands, have you ever seen a woman love another’s child? Not
only have kindness for it—’tis not that I mean; but _love_ it, love
it with the warmest passion of her soul.

JATGEIR.

That do only those women who have no child of their own to love.

KING SKULE.

Only those women——?

JATGEIR.

And chiefly women who are barren.

KING SKULE.

Chiefly the barren——? They love the children of others with all
their warmest passions?

JATGEIR.

That will oftentimes befall.

KING SKULE.

And does it not sometimes befall that such a barren woman will slay
another’s child, because she herself has none?

JATGEIR.

Ay, ay; but in that she does unwisely.

KING SKULE.

Unwisely?

JATGEIR.

Ay, for she gives the gift of sorrow to her whose child she slays.

KING SKULE.

Think you the gift of sorrow is a great good?

JATGEIR.

Yes, lord.

KING SKULE.

[_Looks fixedly at him._] Methinks there are two men in you,
Icelander. When you sit amid the household at the merry feast, you
draw cloak and hood over all your thoughts; when one is alone with
you, sometimes you seem to be of those among whom one were fain to
choose his friend. How comes it?

JATGEIR.

When you go to swim in the river, my lord, you would scarce strip
you where the people pass by to church; you seek a sheltered
privacy.

KING SKULE.

True, true.

JATGEIR.

My soul has the like shamefastness; therefore I do not strip me when
there are many in the hall.

KING SKULE.

Ha. [_A short pause._] Tell me, Jatgeir, how came you to be a skald?
Who taught you skald-craft?

JATGEIR.

Skaldcraft cannot be taught, my lord.

KING SKULE.

Cannot be taught? How came it then?

JATGEIR.

The gift of sorrow came to me, and I was a skald.

KING SKULE.

Then ’tis the gift of sorrow the skald has need of?

JATGEIR.

_I_ needed sorrow; others there may be who need faith, or joy—or
doubt——

KING SKULE.

Doubt as well?

JATGEIR.

Ay; but then must the doubter be strong and sound.

KING SKULE.

And whom call you the unsound doubter?

JATGEIR.

He who doubts of his own doubt.

KING SKULE.

[_Slowly._] That, methinks, were death.

JATGEIR.

’Tis worse; ’tis neither day nor night.

KING SKULE.

[_Quickly, as if shaking off his thoughts._] Where are my weapons? I
will fight and act—not think. What was it you would have told me
when you came?

JATGEIR.

’Twas what I noted in my lodging. The townsmen whisper together
secretly, and laugh mockingly, and ask if we be well assured that
King Håkon is in the westland; there is somewhat they are in glee
over.

KING SKULE.

They are men of Viken, and therefore against me.

JATGEIR.

They scoff because King Olaf’s shrine could not be brought out to
the mote-stead when you were chosen king; they say it boded ill.

KING SKULE.

When next I come to Nidaros, the shrine _shall_ out! It shall stand
under the open sky, though I should have to tear down St. Olaf’s
church and widen out the mote-stead over the spot where it stood.

JATGEIR.

That were a strong deed; but I shall make a song of it, as strong as
the deed itself.

KING SKULE.

Have you many unmade songs within you, Jatgeir?

JATGEIR.

Nay, but many unborn; they are conceived one after the other, come
to life, and are brought forth.

KING SKULE.

And if I, who am King and have the might, if I were to have you
slain, would all the unborn skald-thoughts you bear within you die
along with you?

JATGEIR.

My lord, it is a great sin to slay a fair thought.

KING SKULE.

I ask not if it be a _sin_; I ask if it be _possible_!

JATGEIR.

I know not.

KING SKULE.

Have you never had another skald for your friend, and has he never
unfolded to you a great and noble song he thought to make?

JATGEIR.

Yes, lord.

KING SKULE.

Did you not then wish that you could slay him, to take his thought
and make the song yourself?

JATGEIR.

My lord, I am not barren; I have children of my own; I need not to
love those of other men.

[_Goes._

KING SKULE.

[_After a pause._] The Icelander is in very deed a skald. He speaks
God’s deepest truth and knows it not——_I_ am as a barren woman.
Therefore I love Håkon’s kingly thought-child, love it with the
warmest passion of my soul. Oh, that I could but adopt[39] it! It
would die in my hands. Which were best, that it should die in my
hands, or wax great in his? Should I ever have peace of soul if that
came to pass? Can I forgo all? Can I stand by and see Håkon make
himself famous for all time! How dead and empty is all within me—and
around me. No friend—; ah, the Icelander! [_Goes to the door and
calls_:] Has the skald gone from the palace?

A GUARD.

[_Outside._] No, my lord; he stands in the outer hall talking with
the watch.

KING SKULE.

Bid him come hither. [_Goes forward to the table; presently_ JATGEIR
_enters_.] I cannot sleep, Jatgeir; ’tis all my great kingly
thoughts that keep me awake, you see.

JATGEIR.

’Tis with the king’s thoughts as with the skald’s, I doubt not. They
fly highest and grow quickest when there is night and stillness
around.

KING SKULE.

Is it so with the skald’s thoughts too?

JATGEIR.

Ay, lord; no song is born by daylight; it may be written down in the
sunshine; but it makes itself in the silent night.

KING SKULE.

Who gave you the gift of sorrow, Jatgeir?

JATGEIR.

She whom I loved.

KING SKULE.

She died, then.

JATGEIR.

No, she deceived me.

KING SKULE.

And then you became a skald?

JATGEIR.

Ay, then I became a skald.

KING SKULE.

[_Seizes him by the arm._] What gift do _I_ need to become a king?

JATGEIR.

Not the gift of doubt; else would you not question so.

KING SKULE.

What gift do I need?

JATGEIR.

My lord, you are a king.

KING SKULE.

Have you at all times full faith that you are a skald?

JATGEIR.

[_Looks silently at him for a while, and asks._] Have you never
loved?

KING SKULE.

Yes, once—burningly, blissfully, and in sin.

JATGEIR.

You have a wife.

KING SKULE.

Her I took to bear me sons.

JATGEIR.

But you have a daughter, my lord—a gracious and noble daughter.

KING SKULE.

Were my daughter a son, I would not ask you what gift I need.
[_Vehemently._] I must have some one by me who sinks his own will
utterly in mine—who believes in me unflinchingly, who will cling
close to me in good hap and ill, who lives only to shed light and
warmth over my life, and must die if I fall. Give me counsel,
Jatgeir Skald!

JATGEIR.

Buy yourself a dog, my lord.

KING SKULE.

Would no man suffice?

JATGEIR.

You would have to search long for such a man.

KING SKULE.

[_Suddenly._] Will _you_ be that man to me, Jatgeir? Will _you_ be a
son to me? You shall have Norway’s crown to your heritage—the whole
land shall be yours, if you will be a son to me, and live for my
life-work, and believe in me.

JATGEIR.

And what should be my warranty that I did not feign——?

KING SKULE.

Give up your calling in life; sing no more songs, and then will I
believe you!

JATGEIR.

No, lord—that were to buy the crown too dear.

KING SKULE.

Bethink you well—’tis greater to be a king than a skald.

JATGEIR.

Not always.

KING SKULE.

’Tis but your unsung songs you must sacrifice!

JATGEIR.

Songs unsung are ever the fairest.

KING SKULE.

But I must—I must have one who can trust in me! Only one! I feel
it—had I that one, I were saved!

JATGEIR.

Trust in yourself and you will be saved!

PAUL FLIDA.

[_Enters hastily._] King Skule, look to yourself! Håkon Håkonsson
lies off Elgjarness with all his fleet!

KING SKULE.

Off Elgjarness——! Then he is close at hand.

JATGEIR.

Get we to arms then! If there be bloodshed to-night, I will gladly
be the first to die for you!

KING SKULE.

You, who would not live for me!

JATGEIR.

A man can die for another’s life-work; but if he go on living, he
must live for his own.

[_Goes._

PAUL FLIDA.

[_Impatiently._] Your commands, my lord! The Birchlegs may be in
Oslo this very hour.

KING SKULE.

’Twere best if we could fare to St. Thomas Beckett’s grave; he has
helped so many a sorrowful and penitent soul.

PAUL FLIDA.

[_More forcibly._] My lord, speak not so wildly now; I tell you, the
Birchlegs are upon us!

KING SKULE.

Let all the churches be opened, that we may betake us thither and
find grace.

PAUL FLIDA.

You can crush all your foemen at one stroke, and yet would betake
you to the churches!

KING SKULE.

Yes, yes, keep all the churches open!

PAUL FLIDA.

Be sure Håkon will break sanctuary, when ’tis Vårbælgs he pursues.

KING SKULE.

That will he not; God will shield him from such a sin;—God always
shields Håkon.

PAUL FLIDA.

[_In deep and sorrowful wrath._] To hear you speak thus, a man could
not but ask: Who is king in this land?

KING SKULE.

[_Smiling mournfully._] Ay, Paul Flida, that is the great question:
_Who_ is king in this land?

PAUL FLIDA.

[_Imploringly._] You are soul-sick to-night, my lord; let me act for
you.

KING SKULE.

Ay, ay, do so.

PAUL FLIDA.

[_Going._] First will I break down all the bridges.

KING SKULE.

Madman! Stay!—Break down all the bridges! Know you what that means?
_I_ have assayed it;—beware of that!

PAUL FLIDA.

What would you then, my lord?

KING SKULE.

I will talk with Håkon.

PAUL FLIDA.

He will answer you with a tongue of steel.

KING SKULE.

Go, go;—you shall learn my will anon.

PAUL FLIDA.

Every moment is precious! [_Seizes his hand._] King Skule, let us
break down all the bridges, fight like Wolves,[40] and trust in
Heaven!

KING SKULE.

[_Softly._] Heaven trusts not in me; I dare not trust in Heaven.

PAUL FLIDA.

Short has been the saga of the Vargbælgs.

[_Goes out by the back._

KING SKULE.

A hundred cunning heads, a thousand mighty arms, are at my beck; but
not a single loving, trusting heart. That is kingly beggary; no
more, no less.

BÅRD BRATTE.

[_From the back._] Two wayfarers from afar stand without, praying to
have speech with you my lord.

KING SKULE.

Who are they?

BÅRD BRATTE.

A woman and a priest.

KING SKULE.

Let the woman and the priest approach.

[BÅRD _goes_; KING SKULE _seats himself, musing, on the
right; presently there enters a black-robed woman; she
wears a long cloak, a hood, and a thick veil, which
conceals her face; a priest follows her, and remains
standing by the door_.

KING SKULE.

Who are you?

THE WOMAN.

One you have loved.

KING SKULE.

[_Shaking his head._] There lives no one who remembers that I have
loved. Who are you, I ask?

THE WOMAN.

One who loves you.

KING SKULE.

Then are you surely one of the dead.

THE WOMAN.

[_Comes close to him and says softly and passionately._] Skule
Bårdsson!

KING SKULE.

[_Rises with a cry._] Ingeborg!

INGEBORG.

Do you know me now, Skule?

KING SKULE.

Ingeborg,—Ingeborg!

INGEBORG.

Oh, let me look at you—look long at you, so long! [_Seizes his
hands; a pause._] You fair, you deeply loved, you faithless man!

KING SKULE.

Take off that veil; look at me with the eyes that once were as clear
and blue as the sky.

INGEBORG.

These eyes have been but a rain-clouded sky for twenty years; you
would not know them again, and you shall never see them more.

KING SKULE.

But your voice is fresh and soft and young as ever!

INGEBORG.

I have used it only to whisper _your_ name, to imprint your
greatness in a young heart, and to pray to the sinners’ God for
grace toward us twain, who have loved in sin.

KING SKULE.

You have done that?

INGEBORG.

I have been silent save to speak loving words of you;—therefore has
my voice remained fresh and soft and young.

KING SKULE.

There lies a life-time between. Every fair memory from those days
have I wasted and let slip——

INGEBORG.

It was your right.

KING SKULE.

And meantime you, Ingeborg, loving, faithful woman, have dwelt there
in the north, guarding and treasuring your memories, in ice-cold
loneliness!

INGEBORG.

It was my happiness.

KING SKULE.

And I could give you up to win might and riches! With you at my
side, as my wife, I had found it easier to be a king.

INGEBORG.

God has been good to me in willing it otherwise. A soul like mine
had need of a great sin, to arouse it to remorse and expiation.

KING SKULE.

And now you come——?

INGEBORG.

As Andres Skialdarband’s widow.

KING SKULE.

Your husband is dead!

INGEBORG.

On the way from Jerusalem.

KING SKULE.

Then has he atoned for the slaying of Vegard.

INGEBORG.

’Twas not therefore that my noble husband took the Cross.

KING SKULE.

Not therefore?

INGEBORG.

No; it was _my_ sin he took upon his strong, loving shoulders; ’twas
_that_ he went to wash away in Jordan stream; ’twas for _that_ he
bled.

KING SKULE.

[_Softly._] Then he knew all.

INGEBORG.

From the first. And Bishop Nicholas knew it, for to him I confessed.
And there was one other man that came to know it, though how I
cannot guess.

KING SKULE.

Who?

INGEBORG.

Vegard Væradal.

KING SKULE.

Vegard!

INGEBORG.

He whispered a mocking word of me into my husband’s ear; and
thereupon Andres Skialdarband drew his sword, and slew him on the
spot.

KING SKULE.

He kept ward over her whom _I_ betrayed and forgot.—And wherefore
seek you me now?

INGEBORG.

To bring you the last sacrifice.

KING SKULE.

What mean you?

INGEBORG.

[_Points to the Priest who stands by the door._] Look at him!—Peter,
my son, come hither!

KING SKULE.

Your son——!

INGEBORG.

And _yours_, King Skule!

KING SKULE.

[_Half bewildered._] Ingeborg!

[PETER _approaches in silent emotion, and throws himself
before_ KING SKULE.

INGEBORG.

Take him! For twenty years has he been the light and comfort of my
life.—Now are you King of Norway; the King’s son must enter on his
heritage; I have no longer any right to him.

KING SKULE.

[_Raises him up, in a storm of joy._] Here, to my heart, you whom I
have yearned for so burningly! [_Presses him in his arms, lets him
go, looks at him, and embraces him again._] My son! My son! I have a
son! Ha-ha-ha! who can stand against me now? [_Goes over to_
INGEBORG _and seizes her hand_.] And you, you give him to me,
Ingeborg! You take not back your word? You give him to me indeed?

INGEBORG.

Heavy is the sacrifice, and scarce had I strength to make it, but
that Bishop Nicholas sent him to me, bearing a letter with tidings
of Andres Skialdarband’s death. ’Twas the Bishop that laid on me the
heavy sacrifice, to atone for all my sin.

KING SKULE.

Then is the sin blotted out, and henceforth he is mine alone; is it
not so, mine alone?

INGEBORG.

Yes; but one promise I crave of you.

KING SKULE.

Heaven and earth, crave all you will!

INGEBORG.

He is pure as a lamb of God, as I now give him into your hands. ’Tis
a perilous path that leads up to the throne; let him not take hurt
to his soul. Hear you, King Skule: let not my child take hurt to his
soul!

KING SKULE.

That I promise and swear to you!

INGEBORG.

[_Seizes his arm._] From the moment you mark that his soul suffers
harm, let him rather die!

KING SKULE.

Rather die! I promise and swear it!

INGEBORG.

Then shall I be of good cheer as I go back to Halogaland.

KING SKULE.

Ay, you may be of good cheer.

INGEBORG.

There will I repent and pray, till the Lord calls me. And when we
meet before God, he shall come back to me pure and blameless.

KING SKULE.

Pure and blameless! [_Turning to_ PETER.] Let me look at you! Ay,
your mother’s features and mine; you are he for whom I have longed
so sorely.

PETER.

My father, my great, noble father! Let me live and fight for you!
Let your cause be mine; and be your cause what it may—I know that I
am fighting for the right!

KING SKULE.

[_With a cry of joy._] You trust in me! You trust in me!

PETER.

Immovably!

KING SKULE.

Then all is well; then am I surely saved! Listen: you shall cast off
the cowl; the Archbishop shall loose you from your vows; the King’s
son shall wield the sword, shall go forward unwavering to might and
honour.

PETER.

Together with you, my noble father! We will go together!

KING SKULE.

[_Drawing the youth close up to himself._] Ay, together, we two
alone!

INGEBORG.

[_To herself._] To love, to sacrifice all and be forgotten, that is
my saga.[41]

[_Goes quietly out by the back._

KING SKULE.

Now shall a great king’s-work be done in Norway! Listen, Peter, my
son! We will awaken the whole people, and gather it into one; the
man of Viken and the Trönder, the Halogalander and the Agdeman, the
Uplander and the Sogndaleman, all shall be _one_ great family! Then
shall you see how the land will come to flourish!

PETER.

What a great and dizzy thought——

KING SKULE.

Do you grasp it?

PETER.

Yes—yes!—Clearly——!

KING SKULE.

And have you faith in it?

PETER.

Yes, yes; for I have faith in you!

KING SKULE.

[_Wildly._] Håkon Håkonsson must die.

PETER.

If you will it, then it is right that he die.

KING SKULE.

’Twill cost blood; but that we cannot heed!

PETER.

The blood is not wasted that flows in your cause.

KING SKULE.

All the might shall be yours when I have built up the kingdom. You
shall sit on the throne with the circlet on your brow, with the
purple mantle flowing wide over your shoulders; all men in the land
shall bow before you——[_The sounds of distant horns[42] are heard._]
Ha! what was that? [_With a cry._] The Birchleg host! What was it
Paul Flida said——?

[_Rushes towards the back._

PAUL FLIDA.

[_Enters and cries_:] The hour is upon us, King Skule!

KING SKULE.

[_Bewildered._] The Birchlegs! King Håkon’s host! Where are they?

PAUL FLIDA.

They are swarming in thousands down over the Ekeberg.

KING SKULE.

Sound the call to arms! Sound, sound! Give counsel; where shall we
meet them?

PAUL FLIDA.

All the churches stand open for us.

KING SKULE.

’Tis of the Birchlegs I ask——?

PAUL FLIDA.

For them all the bridges stand open.

KING SKULE.

Unhappy man, what have you done?

PAUL FLIDA.

Obeyed my King!

KING SKULE.

My son! My son! Woe is me; I have lost your kingdom!

PETER.

No, you will conquer! So great a king’s-thought cannot die!

KING SKULE.

Peace, peace! [_Horns and shouts are heard, nearer at hand._] To
horse! To arms! More is here at stake than the life and death of
men!

[_Rushes out by the back; the others follow him._

_A street in Oslo. On each side, low wooden houses, with porches. At
the back, St. Hallvard’s churchyard, enclosed by a high wall
with a gate. On the left, at the end of the wall, is seen the
church, the chief portal of which stands open. It is still
night; after a little, the day begins to dawn. The alarm-bell
is ringing: far away on the right are heard battle-shouts and
confused noises._

KING SKULE’S HORNBLOWER.

[_Enters from the right, blows his horn, and shouts._] To arms! To
arms, all King Skule’s men!

[_Blows his horn again, and proceeds on his way; presently
he is heard blowing and shouting in the next street._

A WOMAN.

[_Appears at a house door on the right._] Great God of mercy, what
is astir?

A TOWNSMAN.

[_Who has come out, half dressed, from a house on the other side of
the street._] The Birchlegs are in the town! Now will Skule have his
reward for all his misdeeds.

ONE OF SKULE’S MEN.

[_Enters with some others, bearing their cloaks and weapons on their
arms, from a side street on the left._] Where are the Birchlegs?

ANOTHER OF SKULE’S MEN.

[_Coming from a house on the right._] I know not!

THE FIRST.

Hist! Listen!—They must be down at the Geite-bridge!

THE SECOND.

Off to the Geite-bridge then!

[_They all rush out to the right; a townsman comes running
in from the same side._

THE FIRST TOWNSMAN.

Hey, neighbour, whence come you?

THE SECOND TOWNSMAN.

From down at the Lo-river; there’s ugly work there.

THE WOMAN.

St. Olaf and St. Hallvard! Is it the Birchlegs, or who is it?

THE SECOND TOWNSMAN.

Who else but the Birchlegs! King Håkon is with them; the whole fleet
is laying in to the wharves; but he himself landed with his best men
out at Ekeberg.

THE FIRST TOWNSMAN.

Then will he take revenge for the slaughter at Låka!

THE SECOND TOWNSMAN.

Ay, be sure of that.

THE FIRST TOWNSMAN.

See, see! The Vårbælgs are flying already!

_A troop of_ SKULE’S _men enter in full flight, from the right_.

ONE OF THEM.

Into the church! None can stand against the Birchlegs as they lay
about them to-night.

[_The troop rushes into the church and bars the door on the
inside._

THE SECOND TOWNSMAN.

[_Looking out to the right._] I see a standard far down the street;
it must be King Håkon’s.

THE FIRST TOWNSMAN.

See, see, how the Vårbælgs are running!

_A second troop enters from the right._

ONE OF THE FUGITIVES.

Let us take to the church and pray for grace.

[_They rush at the door._

SEVERAL VÅRBÆLGS.

’Tis barred! ’tis barred!

THE FIRST.

Up over Martestokke then!

ANOTHER.

Where is King Skule?

THE FIRST.

I know not. Away! yonder I see the Birchlegs standard!

[_They flee past the church, out to the left._

HÅKON _enters from the right with his Standard-bearer_, GREGORIUS
JONSSON, DAGFINN THE PEASANT, _and several other men_.

DAGFINN.

Hark to the war-cry! Skule is gathering his men behind the
churchyard.

AN OLD TOWNSMAN.

[_Calls from his porch, to_ HÅKON.] Take heed for yourself, dear my
lord; the Vargbælgs are fierce, now they are fighting for life.

HÅKON.

Is it you, old Guthorm Erlendsson? You have fought both for my
father and for my grandfather.

THE TOWNSMAN.

Would to God I could fight for you as well.

HÅKON.

For that you are too old, and there is no need; men pour in upon me
from all sides.

DAGFINN.

[_Pointing off over the wall to the right._] There comes the Duke’s
standard!

GREGORIUS JONSSON.

The Duke himself! He rides his white war-horse.

DAGFINN.

We must hinder his passage through the gate here!

HÅKON.

Wind the horn, wind the horn! [_The Hornblower does so._] You blew
better, you whelp, when you blew for money on Bergen wharf.

[_The Hornblower winds another blast, louder than the first;
many men come rushing in._

A VÅRBÆLG.

[_From the right, fleeing towards the church, pursued by a
Birchleg._] Spare my life! Spare my life!

THE BIRCHLEG.

Not though you sat on the altar! [_Cuts him down._] ’Tis a costly
cloak you wear, methinks ’twill fit me well. [_Is about to take the
cloak, but utters a cry and casts away his sword._] My lord King!
Not another stroke will I strike for you!

DAGFINN.

You say that in such an hour as this?

THE BIRCHLEG.

Not another stroke!

DAGFINN.

[_Cuts him down._] Well, you may e’en let it alone.

THE BIRCHLEG.

[_Pointing to the dead Vårbælg._] Methought I had done enough when I
slew my own brother.

[_Dies._

HÅKON.

His brother!

DAGFINN.

What! [_Goes up to the Vårbælg’s body._

HÅKON.

Is it true?

DAGFINN.

I fear me it is.

HÅKON.

[_Shaken._] Here see we what a war we are waging. Brother against
brother, father against son;—by God Almighty, this must have an end!

GREGORIUS JONSSON.

There comes the Duke, in full fight with Earl Knut’s troop!

DAGFINN.

Bar the gate against him, king’s men!

_On the other side of the wall, the combatants come in sight. The
Vårbælgs are forcing their way towards the left, driving the
Birchlegs back, foot by foot._ KING SKULE _rides his white
war-horse, with his sword drawn_. PETER _walks at his side,
holding the horse’s bridle, and with his left hand uplifting a
crucifix_. PAUL FLIDA _bears_ SKULE’S _standard, which is
blue, with a golden lion rampant, without the axe_.[43]

KING SKULE.

Cut them down! Spare no man! There is come a new heir[44] to the
throne of Norway!

THE BIRCHLEGS.

A new heir, said he?

HÅKON.

Skule Bårdsson, let us share the kingdom!

KING SKULE.

All or nought!

HÅKON.

Think of the Queen, your daughter!

KING SKULE.

I have a son, I have a son! I think of none but him!

HÅKON.

I too have a son;—if I fall the kingdom will be his!

KING SKULE.

Slay the King-child, wherever you find it! Slay it on the throne;
slay it at the altar; slay it—slay it in the Queen’s arms!

HÅKON.

There did you utter your own doom!

KING SKULE.