The Pretenders

The churchyard of Christ Church, Bergen. At the back rises the church, the main portal of which faces the spectators. In front, on the left, stands Håkon Håkonsson, with Dagfinn the Peasant, Vegard of Væradal, Ivar Bodde, and several other nobles and chieftains. Opposite to him stand Earl Skule, Gregorius Jonsson, Paul Flida, and others of the Earl’s men. Further back on the same side are seen Sigurd Ribbung and his followers, and a little way from him Guthorm Ingesson, with several chiefs. Men-at-arms line the approaches to the church; the common people fill the churchyard; many are perched in the trees and seated on the walls; all seem to await, in suspense, the occurrence of some event. All the church bells of the town are ringing far and near.

Earl Skule.

[Softly and impatiently, to Gregorius Jonsson.] Why tarry they so long in there?

Gregorius Jonsson.

Hush! The psalm is beginning.

[From inside the closed church doors, to the accompaniment of trumpets, is heard a Choir of Monks and Nuns singing Domine cœli, etc. etc. While the singing is going on, the church door is opened from inside; in the porch Bishop Nicholas is seen, surrounded by Priests and Monks.

Bishop Nicholas.

[Steps forward to the doorway and proclaims with uplifted crozier.] Inga of Varteig is even now bearing the iron on behalf of Håkon the Pretender.

[The church door is closed again; the singing inside continues.

Gregorius Jonsson.

[In a low voice, to the Earl.] Call upon Holy King Olaf to protect the right.

Earl Skule.

[Hurriedly, with a deprecating gesture.] Not now. Best not remind him of me.

Ivar Bodde.

[Seizing Håkon by the arm.] Pray to the Lord thy God, Håkon Håkonsson.

Håkon.

No need; I am sure of him.

[The singing in the church grows louder; all uncover; many fall upon their knees and pray.

Gregorius Jonsson.

[To the Earl.] A solemn hour for you and for many!

Earl Skule.

[Looking anxiously towards the church.] A solemn hour for Norway.

Paul Flida.

[Near the Earl.] Now is the glowing iron in her hands.

Dagfinn.

[Beside Håkon.] They are coming down the nave.

Ivar Bodde.

Christ protect thy tender hands, Inga, mother of the King!

Håkon.

Surely all my life shall reward her for this hour.

Earl Skule.

[Who has been listening intently, breaks out suddenly.] Did she cry out? Has she let the iron fall?

Paul Flida.

[Goes up.] I know not what it was.

Gregorius Jonsson.

Hark to the women weeping in the outer hall!

The Choir in the Church.

[Breaks forth in jubilation.] Gloria in excelsis Deo!

[The doors are thrown open. Inga comes forth, followed by Nuns, Priests, and Monks.

INGA.

[On the church steps.] God has given judgment! Behold these hands; with them I bore the iron!

Voices amongst the Multitude.

They are tender and white as before!

Other Voices.

Fairer still!

The whole Multitude.

He is Håkon’s son! He is Sverre’s¹ grandson!

Håkon.

[Embraces her.] Thanks to thee, thanks to thee, blessed among women!

Bishop Nicholas.

[In passing, to the Earl.] ’Twas ill done to press for the ordeal.

Earl Skule.

Nay, my lord Bishop, needs must we pray for God’s voice in this matter.

Håkon.

[Deeply moved, holding Inga by the hand.] It is done, then, that which my every fibre cried out against—that which has made my heart shrivel and writhe within me——

Dagfinn.

[Turning towards the multitude.] Ay, look upon this woman and bethink you, all that are gathered here! Who ever doubted her word, until certain folk required that it should be doubted.

Paul Flida.

Doubt has whispered in every corner from the hour when Håkon the Pretender was borne, a little child, into King Inge’s² hall.

Gregorius Jonsson.

And last winter it swelled to a roar, and sounded forth over the land, both north and south; I trow every man can bear witness to that.

Håkon.

I myself can best bear witness to it. Therefore have I yielded to the counsel of many faithful friends, and humbled myself as no other chosen king has done for many a day. I have proved my birth by the ordeal, proved my right, as the son of Håkon Sverresson, to succeed to the throne of Norway. I will not now question who fostered the doubt, and made it, as the Earl’s kinsman says, swell into a roar; but this I know, that I have suffered bitterly under it. I have been chosen king from boyhood, but little kingly honour has been shown me, even where it seemed I might look for it most securely. I will but remind you of last Palm Sunday in Nidaros,³ when I went up to the altar to make my offering, and the Archbishop turned away and made as though he saw me not, to escape greeting me as kings are wont to be greeted. Yet such slights I could easily have borne, had not open war been like to break loose in the land; that I must needs hinder.

Dagfinn.

It may be well for kings to hearken to counsels of prudence; but had my counsel been heard in this matter, it had not been with hot iron, but with cold steel that Håkon Håkonsson had called for judgment between himself and his foes.

Håkon.

Curb yourself, Dagfinn; think what beseems the man who is to be foremost in the State.

Earl Skule.

[With a slight smile.] ’Tis easy to call every one the King’s foe who chimes not with the King’s will. Methinks he is the King’s worst foe who would counsel him against making good his right to the kingship.

Håkon.

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 Birchlegs⁴ 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.