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.
[_Slashing about him._] Slay, slay without mercy! King Skule has a
son! Slay, slay!
[_The fighting gradually passes away to the left._
GREGORIUS JONSSON.
The Vargbælgs are hewing their way through!
DAGFINN.
Ay, but only to flee.
GREGORIUS JONSSON.
Yes, by Heaven,—the other gate stands open; they are fleeing
already!
DAGFINN.
Up towards Martestokke. [_Calls out._] After them, after them, Earl
Knut! Take vengeance for the slaughter at Låka!
HÅKON.
You heard it: he proclaimed my child an outlaw—my innocent child,
Norway’s chosen king after me!
THE KING’S MEN.
Ay, ay, we heard it!
HÅKON.
And what is the punishment for such a crime?
THE MEN.
Death!
HÅKON.
Then must he die! [_Raises his hand to make oath._] Here I swear it:
Skule Bårdsson shall die, wherever he be met on unconsecrated
ground!
DAGFINN.
’Tis every true man’s duty to slay him.
A BIRCHLEG.
[_From the left._] Duke Skule has taken to flight!
THE TOWNSFOLK.
The Birchlegs have conquered!
HÅKON.
What way?
THE BIRCHLEG.
Past Martestokke, up towards Eidsvold; most of them had horses
waiting up in the streets, else had not one escaped with his life.
HÅKON.
Thanks be to God that has helped us yet again! Now may the Queen
safely come ashore from the fleet.
GREGORIUS JONSSON.
[_Points off to the right._] She has already landed, my lord; there
she comes!
HÅKON.
[_To those nearest him._] The heaviest task is yet before me; she is
a loving daughter;—listen—no word to her of the danger that
threatens her child. Swear to me, one and all, to keep ward over
your King’s son; but let her know nothing.
THE MEN.
[_Softly._] We swear it.
MARGRETE.
[_Enters, with ladies and attendants, from the right._] Håkon, my
husband! Heaven has shielded you; you have conquered and are unhurt!
HÅKON.
Yes, I have conquered. Where is the child?
MARGRETE.
On board the King’s ship, in the hands of trusty men.
HÅKON.
Go more of you thither.
[_Some of the men go._
MARGRETE.
Håkon, where is—Duke Skule?
HÅKON.
He has made for the Uplands.
MARGRETE.
He lives, then!—My husband, may I thank God that he lives?
HÅKON.
[_In painful agitation._] Hear me, Margrete: you have been a
faithful wife to me, you have followed me through good hap and ill,
you have been unspeakably rich in love;—now must I cause you a heavy
sorrow; I am loath to do it; but I am King, therefore must I——
MARGRETE.
[_In suspense._] Has it to do with—the Duke?
HÅKON.
Yes. No bitterer lot could befall me than to live my life far from
you; but if you think it must be so after what I now tell you—if you
feel that you can no longer sit by my side, no longer look at me
without turning pale—well, we must even part—live each alone—and I
shall not blame you for it.
MARGRETE.
Part from you! How can you think such a thought? Give me your
hand——!
HÅKON.
Touch it not!—It has even now been lifted in oath——
MARGRETE.
In oath?
HÅKON.
An oath that set its sacred seal upon a death-warrant.
MARGRETE.
[_With a shriek._] My father! Oh, my father!
[_Totters; two women rush forward to support her._
HÅKON.
Yes, Margrete—his King has doomed your father to death.
MARGRETE.
Then well I know he has committed a greater crime than when he took
the kingly title.
HÅKON.
That has he;—and now, if you feel that we must part, so let it be.
MARGRETE.
[_Coming close to him, firmly._] We can never part! I am your wife,
nought else in the world but your wife!
HÅKON.
Are you strong enough? Did you hear and understand all? I have
doomed your father.
MARGRETE.
I heard and understood. You have doomed my father.
HÅKON.
And you ask not to know what was his crime?
MARGRETE.
’Tis enough that you know it.
HÅKON.
But it was to death that I doomed him!
MARGRETE.
[_Kneels before the_ KING, _and kisses his hand_.] My husband and
noble lord, your doom is just!
ACT FIFTH.
_A room in the palace at Nidaros. The entrance door is on the right;
in front, on the same side, a window; to the left a smaller
door. It is after night-fall._ PAUL FLIDA, BÅRD BRATTE, _and
several of_ KING SKULE’S _principal followers are standing at
the window and looking upward_.
A MAN-AT-ARMS.
How red it glows!
A SECOND.
It stretches over half the sky, like a flaming sword.
BÅRD BRATTE.
Holy King Olaf, what bodes such a sign of dread?
AN OLD VÅRBÆLG.
Assuredly it bodes a great chief’s death.
PAUL FLIDA.
Håkon’s death, my good Vårbælgs. He is lying out in the fiord with
his fleet; we may look for him in the town to-night. This time, ’tis
our turn to conquer!
BÅRD BRATTE.
Trust not to that; there is little heart in the host now.
THE OLD VÅRBÆLG.
And reason enough, in sooth; ever since the flight from Oslo has
King Skule shut himself in, and will neither see nor speak with his
men.
THE FIRST MAN-AT-ARMS.
There are those in the town who know not whether to believe him
alive or dead.
PAUL FLIDA.
The King must out, however sick he may be. Speak to him, Bård
Bratte—the safety of all is at stake.
BÅRD BRATTE.
It avails not; I have spoken to him already.
PAUL FLIDA.
Then must I try what I can do. [_Goes to the door on the left, and
knocks._] My lord King, you must take the helm in your own hands;
things can no longer go on in this fashion.
KING SKULE.
[_Within._] I am sick, Paul Flida.
PAUL FLIDA.
What else can you look for? You have eaten nought these two days;
you must nourish and strengthen you——
KING SKULE.
I am sick.
PAUL FLIDA.
By the Almighty, ’tis no time for sickness. King Håkon lies out in
the fiord, and may at any time be upon us here in Nidaros.
KING SKULE.
Strike him down for me! Slay him and the King-child.
PAUL FLIDA.
You must be with us, my lord!
KING SKULE.
No, no, no,—you are surest of fortune and victory when I am not
there.
PETER.
[_Enters from the right; he is in armour._] The townsfolk are ill at
ease; they flock together in great masses before the palace.
BÅRD BRATTE.
Unless the King speak to them, they will desert him in the hour of
need.
PETER.
Then must he speak to them. [_At the door on the left._] Father! The
Trönders, your trustiest subjects, will fall away from you if you
give them not courage.
KING SKULE.
What said the skald?
PETER.
The skald?
KING SKULE.
The skald who died for my sake at Oslo. A man cannot give what he
himself does not possess, he said.
PETER.
Then neither can you give away the kingdom; for it is mine after
you!
KING SKULE.
Now I will come!
PAUL FLIDA.
God be praised!
KING SKULE.
[_Comes forward in the doorway; he is pale and haggard; his hair has
grown very grey._] You shall not look at me! I will not have you
look at me now that I am sick! [_Goes up to_ PETER.] Take from you
the kingdom, you say? Great God in heaven, what was I about to do!
PETER.
Oh, forgive me;—I know that what you do is ever the right.
KING SKULE.
No, no, not hitherto; but now I will be strong and sound—I will act!
LOUD SHOUTS.
[_Without, on the right._] King Skule! King Skule!
KING SKULE.
What is that?
BÅRD BRATTE.
[_At the window._] The townsmen are flocking together; the whole
courtyard is full of people;—you must speak to them.
KING SKULE.
Do I look like a king? Can I speak now?
PETER.
You must, my noble father!
KING SKULE.
Well, be it so. [_Goes to the window and draws the curtain aside,
but lets it go quickly and starts back in terror._] There hangs the
flaming sword over me again!
PAUL FLIDA.
It bodes that the sword of victory is drawn for you.
KING SKULE.
Ah, were it but so! [_Goes to the window and speaks out._] Trönders,
what would you? Here stands your King.
A TOWNSMAN.
[_Without._] Leave the town! The Birchlegs will burn and slay if
they find you here.
KING SKULE.
We must all hold together. I have been a gracious King to you; I
have craved but small war-tax——
A MAN’S VOICE.
[_Down in the crowd._] What call you all the blood, then, that
flowed at Låka and Oslo?
A WOMAN.
Give me my betrothed again!
A BOY.
Give me my father and my brother!
ANOTHER WOMAN.
Give me my three sons, King Skule!
A MAN.
He is no King; homage has not been done him on St. Olaf’s shrine!
MANY VOICES.
No, no—no homage has been done him on St. Olaf’s shrine! He is no
king!
KING SKULE.
[_Shrinks behind the curtain._] No homage——! No king!
PAUL FLIDA.
’Twas a dire mischance that the shrine was not brought forth when
you were chosen.
BÅRD BRATTE.
Should the townsfolk desert us, we cannot hold Nidaros if the
Birchlegs come.
KING SKULE.
And they will desert us, so long as homage has not been done to me
on the Saint’s shrine.
PETER.
Then let the shrine be brought forth, and take our homage now!
PAUL FLIDA.
[_Shaking his head._] How should that be possible?
PETER.
Is aught impossible, where _he_ is concerned? Sound the call for the
folkmote, and bring forth the shrine!
SEVERAL OF THE MEN.
[_Shrinking back._] Sacrilege!
PETER.
No sacrilege!—Come, come! The monks are well disposed towards King
Skule; they will agree——
PAUL FLIDA.
That will they not; they dare not, for the Archbishop.
PETER.
Are you King’s men, and will not lend your aid when so great a cause
is at stake! Good, there are others below of better will. My father
and King, the monks _shall_ give way; I will pray, I will beseech;
sound the summons for the folkmote; you shall bear your kingship
rightfully.
[_Rushes out to the right._
KING SKULE.
[_Beaming with joy._] Saw you him! Saw you my gallant son! How his
eyes shone! Yes, we will all fight and conquer. How strong are the
Birchlegs?
PAUL FLIDA.
Not stronger than that we may master them, if but the townsfolk hold
to us.
KING SKULE.
They _shall_ hold to us. We must all be at one now and put an end to
this time of dread. See you not that ’tis Heaven’s command that we
should end it? Heaven is wroth with all Norway for the deeds that
have so long been doing. A flaming sword glows night by night in the
sky; women swoon and bear children in the churches; a frenzy creeps
abroad among priests and monks, causing them to run through the
streets and proclaim that the last day is come. Ay, by the Almighty,
this shall be ended at one stroke!
PAUL FLIDA.
What are your commands?
KING SKULE.
All the bridges shall be broken down!
PAUL FLIDA.
Go, and let all the bridges be broken.
[_One of the Men-at-arms goes out to the right._
KING SKULE.
Gather all our men upon the foreshore; not one Birchleg shall set
foot in Nidaros.
PAUL FLIDA.
Well spoken, King.
KING SKULE.
When the shrine is borne forth, let the horn sound to the folkmote.
The host and the townsfolk shall be called together.
PAUL FLIDA.
[_To one of the men._] Go forth and bid the hornblower wind his horn
in all the streets.
[_The man goes._
KING SKULE.
[_Addresses the people from the window._] Hold fast to me, all my
sorrowing people. There shall come peace and light over the land
once more, as in Håkon’s first glad days, when the fields yielded
two harvests every summer. Hold fast to me; believe in me and trust
to me; ’tis that I need so unspeakably. I will watch over you and
fight for you; I will bleed and die for you, if need be; but fail me
not, and doubt not——! [_Loud cries, as though of terror, are heard
among the people._] What is that?
A WILD VOICE.
Atone! Atone!
BÅRD BRATTE.
[_Looks out._] ’Tis a priest possessed of the devil!
PAUL FLIDA.
He is tearing his cowl to shreds and scourging himself with a whip.
THE VOICE.
Atone, atone! The last day is come.
MANY VOICES.
Flee, flee! Woe upon Nidaros. A deed of sin!
KING SKULE.
What has befallen?
BÅRD BRATTE.
All flee, all shrink away as though a wild beast were in their
midst.
KING SKULE.
Yes, all flee. [_With a cry of joy._] Ha! it matters not. We are
saved! See, see—King Olaf’s shrine stands in the middle of the
courtyard.
PAUL FLIDA.
King Olaf’s shrine!
BÅRD BRATTE.
Ay, by Heaven—there it stands!
KING SKULE.
The monks are true to me; so good a deed have they never done
before!
PAUL FLIDA.
Hark! the call to the folkmote!
KING SKULE.
Now shall lawful homage be done to me.
PETER.
[_Enters from the right._] Take on you the kingly mantle; now stands
the shrine out yonder.
KING SKULE.
Then have you saved the kingdom for me and for yourself; and tenfold
will we thank the pious monks for yielding.
PETER.
The monks, father—you have nought to thank them for.
KING SKULE
’Twas not they that helped you?
PETER.
They laid the ban of the Church on whoever should dare to touch the
holy thing.
KING SKULE.
The Archbishop then! At last he gives way.
PETER.
The Archbishop hurled forth direr curses than the monks.
KING SKULE.
Ah, then I see that I still have trusty men. You here, who should
have been the first to serve me, stood terrified and shrank back—but
down in the crowd have I friends who for my sake fear not to take so
great a sin upon their souls.
PETER.
You have not one trusty man who dared to take the sin upon him.
KING SKULE.
Almighty God! has then a miracle come to pass? Who bore out the holy
thing?
PETER.
I, my father!
KING SKULE.
[_With a shriek._] You!
THE MEN.
[_Shrink back appalled._] Church-robber!
[PAUL FLIDA, BÅRD BRATTE, _and one or two others go out_.
PETER.