NILS LYKKE (looks at her sharply). Unless there be other plans
afoot----
LADY INGER. What mean you?
NILS LYKKE. Inger Gyldenlove might have a mind to be a--a
kings mother.
LADY INGER. No, no! Give me back my child, and let who will
have the crowns.
But know you so surely that Count Sture is willing----?
NILS LYKKE. Of that he will himself assure you.
LADY INGER. Himself?
NILS LYKKE. Even now.
OLAF SKAKTAVL. How now?
LADY INGER. What say you?
NILS LYKKE. In one word, Count Sture is in Ostrat.
OLAF SKAKTAVL. Here?
NILS LYKKE (to LADY INGER). You have doubtless been told that
another rode through the gate along with me? The Count was my
attendant.
LADY INGER (softly). I am in his power. I have no longer any
choice.
(Looks at him and says:)
'Tis well, Sir Councillor--I will assure you of my support.
NILS LYKKE. In writing?
LADY INGER. As you will.
(Goes to the table on the left, sits down, and takes writing
materials from the drawer.)
NILS LYKKE (aside, standing by the table on the right). At last,
then, I win!
LADY INGER (after a moment's thought, turns suddenly in her chair
to OLAF SKAKTAVL and whispers). Olaf Skaktavl--I am certain of it
now--Nils Lykke is a traitor!
OLAF SKAKTAVL (softly). What? You think----?