NILS STENSSON. See, here they all are.
(Takes out a packet from inside his doublet, and hands it to
NILS LYKKE.)
NILS LYKKE (aside). Letters and papers for Olaf Skaktavl.
(To NILS STENSSON.)
The packet is open, I see. 'Tis like you know what it contains?
NILS STENSSON. No, good sir; I am ill at reading writing; and
for reason good.
NILS LYKKE. I understand; you have given most care to the trade
of arms.
(Sits down by the table on the right, and runs through the
papers.)
Aha! Here is light enough and to spare on what is brewing.
This small letter tied with a silken thread---- (Examines the
address.) This too for Olaf Skaktavl. (Opens the letter, and
glances through its contents.) From Peter Kanzler. I thought as
much. (Reads under his breath.) "I am hard bested, for----; ay,
sure enough; here it stands,--"Young Count Sture has been gathered
to his fathers, even at the time fixed for the revolt to break
forth"--"--but all may yet be made good----" What now? (Reads on
in astonishment.) "You must know, then, Olaf Skaktavl, that the
young man who brings you this letter is a son of----" Heaven and
earth--can it be so?--Ay, by Christ's blood, even so 'tis written!
(Glances at NILS STENSSON.) Can he be----? Ah, if it were so!
(Reads on.) "I have nurtured him since he was a year old; but up
to this day I have ever refused to give him back, trusting to have
in him a sure hostage for Inger Gyldenlove's faithfulness to us
and to our friends. Yet in that respect he has been of but little
service to us. You may marvel that I told you not this secret
when you were with me here of late; therefore will I confess freely
that I feared you might seize upon him, even as I had done. But
now, when you have seen Lady Inger, and have doubtless assured
yourself how loath she is to have a hand in our undertaking, you
will see that 'tis wisest to give her back her own as soon as may
be. Well might it come to pass that in her joy and security and
thankfulness--" ---- "--that is now our last hope."
(Sits for awhile as though struck dumb with surprise; then
exclaims in a low voice:)
Aha,--what a letter! Gold would not buy it!
NILS STENSSON. 'Tis plain I have brought you weighty tidings.
Ay, ay,--Peter Kanzler has many irons in the fire, folk say.
NILS LYKKE (to himself). What to do with all this? A thousand
paths are open to me---- Suppose I----? No, 'twere to risk too
much. But if--ah, if I----? I will venture it.
(Tears the letter across, crumples up the pieces, and hides
them inside his doublet; puts back the other papers into
the packet, which he sticks inside his belt; rises and says:)
A word, my friend!
NILS STENSSON. Well--your looks say that the game goes bravely.
NILS LYKKE. Ay, by my soul it does. You have given me a hand
of nought but court cards,--queens and knaves and----
NILS STENSSON. But what of me, that have brought all these good
tidings? Have I nought more to do?
NILS LYKKE. You? Ay, that have you. You belong to the game.
You are a king--and king of trumps too.
NILS STENSSON. I a king? Oh, now I understand; you are thinking
of my exaltation----
NILS LYKKE. Your exaltation?
NILS STENSSON. Ay; that which you foretold me, if King Gustav's
men got me in their clutches----
(Makes a motion to indicate hanging.)
NILS LYKKE. True enough;--but let that trouble you no more. It
now lies with yourself alone whether within a month you shall have
the hempen noose or a chain of gold about your neck.
NILS STENSSON. A chain of gold? And it lies with me?
(NILS LYKKE nods.)
NILS STENSSON. Why then, the devil take musing! Do you tell me
what I am to do.
NILS LYKKE. I will. But first you must swear me a solemn oath
that no living creature in the wide world shall know what I am to
tell you.
NILS STENSSON. Is that all? You shall have ten oaths if you
will.
NILS LYKKE. Not so lightly, young Sir! It is no jesting matter.
NILS STENSSON. Well well; I am grave enough.
NILS LYKKE. In the Dales you called yourself a Count's son;--
is't not so?
NILS STENSSON. Nay--begin you now on that again? Have I not
made free confession----
NILS LYKKE. You mistake me. What you said in the Dales was the
truth.
NILS STENSSON. The truth? What mean you by that? Tell me but----!
NILS LYKKE. First your oath! The holiest, the most inviolable
you can swear.
NILS STENSSON. That you shall have. Yonder on the wall hangs
the picture of the Holy Virgin----
NILS LYKKE. The Holy Virgin has grown impotent of late. Know
you not what the monk of Wittenberg maintains?
NILS STENSSON. Fie! how can you heed the monk of Wittenberg?
Peter Kanzler says he is a heretic.
NILS LYKKE. Nay, let us not wrangle concerning him. Here can
I show you a saint will serve full well to make oath to.
(Points to a picture hanging on one of the panels.)
Come hither,--swear that you will be silent till I myself release
your tongue--silent, as you hope for Heaven's salvation for yourself
and for the man whose picture hangs there.
NILS STENSSON (approaching the picture). I swear it--so help
me God's holy word!
(Falls back a step in amazement.)
But--Christ save me----!
NILS LYKKE. What now?
NILS STENSSON. The picture----! Sure 'tis myself!
NILS LYKKE. 'Tis old Sten Sture, even as he lived and moved in
his youthful years.
NILS STENSSON. Sten Sture!--And the likeness----? And--said
you not I spoke the truth, when I called myself a Count's son?
Was't not so?
NILS LYKKE. So it was.