——You won not in?
You have hit it. So I said to myself: As you are bidden to be in Östråt to-night, if you have to go through fire and water, you may surely make free to creep through a window.
[Aside.] Ah, if it should be——!
Was it, then, of the last necessity that you should reach Östråt to-night?
Was it? Ay, faith but it was. I love not to keep folk waiting, I can tell you.
Aha,—then Lady Inger Gyldenlöve looks for your coming?
Lady Inger Gyldenlöve? Nay, that I can scarce say for certain; [with a sly smile] but there might be some one else——
[Smiles in answer.] Ah, so there might be some one else—?
Tell me—are you of the house?
I? Well, in so far that I am Lady Inger’s guest this evening.
A guest?—Is not to-night the third night after Martinmas?
The third night after—? Ay, right enough.—Would you seek the lady of the house at once? I think she is not yet gone to rest. But might not you sit down and rest awhile, dear young Sir? See, here is yet a flagon of wine remaining, and doubtless you will find some food. Come, fall to; you will do wisely to refresh your strength.
You are right, Sir; ’twere not amiss.
Both roast meat and sweet cakes! Why, you live like lords here! When one has slept, as I have, on the naked ground, and lived on bread and water for four or five days——
[Looks at him with a smile.] Ay, such a life must be hard for one that is wont to sit at the high-table in noble halls——
Noble halls——?
But now can you take your ease at Östråt, as long as it likes you.
[Pleased.] Ay? Can I truly? Then I am not to begone again so soon?
Nay, that I know not. Sure you yourself can best say that.
[Softly.] Oh, the devil! [Stretches himself in the chair.] Well, you see—’tis not yet certain. I, for my part, were nothing loath to stay quiet here awhile; but——
——But you are not in all points your own master? There be other duties and other affairs——?
Ay, that is just the rub. Were I to choose, I would rest me at Östråt at least the winter through; I have for the most part led a soldier’s life, and——
[Interrupts himself suddenly, fills a goblet, and drinks.
Your health, Sir!
A soldier’s life? H’m!
Nay, what I would have said is this: I have long been eager to see Lady Inger Gyldenlöve, whose fame has spread so wide. She must be a queenly woman,—is’t not so?——The one thing I like not in her, is that she is so cursedly slow to take open action.
Open action?
Ay, ay, you understand me; I mean she is so loath to take a hand in driving the foreign masters out of the land.
Ay, there you are right. But if now you do what you can, you will doubtless move her.
I? God knows ’twould but little serve if I——
Yet ’tis strange you should seek her here if you have so little hope.
What mean you?—Tell me, know you Lady Inger?
Surely; since I am her guest——
Ay, but it in nowise follows that you know her. I too am her guest, yet have I never seen so much as her shadow.
Yet did you speak of her——
——as all folk speak. Why should I not? And besides, I have often enough heard from Peter Kanzler——
[Stops in confusion, and falls to eating busily.
You would have said——?
[Eating.] I? Nay, ’tis all one.
Why laugh you, Sir?
At nothing, Sir!
[Drinks.] A pretty vintage ye have in this house.
[Approaches him confidentially.] Listen—were it not time now to throw off the mask?
[Smiling.] The mask? Why, do as seems best to you.
Then off with all disguise. You are known, Count Sture!
[Bursts out laughing.] Count Sture? Do you too take me for Count Sture?
You mistake, Sir! I am not Count Sture.
You are not? Then who are you?
My name is Nils Stensson.
[Looks at him with a smile.] H’m! Nils Stensson? But you are not Sten Sture’s son Nils? The name chimes at least.
True enough; but God knows what right I have to bear it. My father I never knew; my mother was a poor peasant-woman, that was robbed and murdered in one of the old feuds. Peter Kanzler chanced to be on the spot; he took me into his care, brought me up, and taught me the trade of arms. As you know, King Gustav has been hunting him this many a year; and I have followed him faithfully, wherever he went.
Peter Kanzler has taught you more than the trade of arms, meseems.——Well, well; then you are not Nils Sture. But at least you come from Sweden. Peter Kanzler has sent you hither to find a stranger, who——
[Nods cunningly.]——who is found already.
[Somewhat uncertain.] And whom you do not know?
As little as you know me; for I swear to you by God himself: I am not Count Sture!
In sober earnest, Sir?
As truly as I live! Wherefore should I deny it, if I were?
But where, then, is Count Sture?
[In a low voice.] Ay, that is just the secret.
[Whispers.] Which is known to you? Is’t not so?
[Nods.] And which I am to tell you.
To tell me? Well then,—where is he?
Up there? Lady Inger holds him hidden in the loft-room?
Nay, nay; you mistake me.
Nils Sture is in Heaven!
Dead? And where?
In his mother’s castle,—three weeks since.
Ah, you are deceiving me! ’Tis but five or six days since he crossed the frontier into Norway.
Oh, that was I.
But just before that the Count had appeared in the Dales. The people, who were restless already, broke out openly and would have chosen him for king.
Ha-ha-ha; that was me too!
You?
I will tell you how it came about. One day Peter Kanzler called me to him and gave me to know that great things were preparing. He bade me set out for Norway and fare to Östråt, where I must be on a certain fixed day——
[Nods.] The third night after Martinmas.
There I was to meet a stranger——
Ay, right; I am he.
From him I should learn what more I had to do. Moreover, I was to let him know that the Count was dead of a sudden, but that as yet ’twas known to no one save to his mother the Countess, together with Peter Kanzler and a few old servants of the Stures.
I understand. The Count was the peasants’ rallying-point. Were the tidings of his death to spread, they would fall asunder,—and ’twould all come to nought.
Ay, maybe so; I know little of such matters.
But how came you to give yourself out for the Count?
How came I to——? Nay, what know I? Many’s the mad prank I have hit on in my day. And yet ’twas not I hit on it neither; for whereever I appeared in the Dales, the people crowded round me and hailed me as Count Sture. Deny it as I pleased, ’twas wasted breath. The Count had been there two years before, they said—and the veriest child knew me again. Well, so be it, thought I; never again will you be a Count in this life; why not try what ’tis like for once?
Well,—and what did you more?
I? I ate and drank and took my ease. The only pity was that I had to take the road again so soon. But when I set forth across the frontier—ha-ha-ha—I promised them I would soon be back with three or four thousand men—I know not how many I said—and then we would lay on in earnest.
And you did not bethink you that you were acting rashly?
Ay, afterwards; but then, to be sure, ’twas too late.
I grieve for you, my young friend; but you will soon come to feel the effects of your folly. Let me tell you that you are pursued. A troop of Swedish men-at-arms is out after you.
After me? Ha-ha-ha! Nay, that is rare! And when they come and think they have Count Sture in their clutches—ha-ha-ha!
[Gravely.]——Then ’tis all over with you.
All over——? But I am not Count Sture.
You have called the people to arms. You have given seditious promises, and raised troubles in the land.
Ay, but ’twas only in jest!
King Gustav will scarce take that view of the affair.
Truly, there is something in what you say. To think I could be so featherwitted——Well, well, I’m not a dead man yet! You will protect me; and besides—-the men-at-arms can scarce be at my heels yet.
But what else have you to tell me?
I? Nothing. When once I have given you the packet——
[Off his guard.] The packet?
Ay, sure you know——
Ah, right, right; the papers from Peter Kanzler——
See, here they all are.
[Takes out a packet from inside his doublet, and hands it to 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?
No, good sir; I love not to read writing; and for reason good.
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 the cross of Christ, 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 Gyldenlöve’s faithfulness to us and to our friends. Yet in that respect he has but little availed 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, and to the same intent. 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 a while as though struck dumb with surprise; then exclaims in a low voice:
Aha,—what a letter! Gold would not buy it!
’Tis plain I have brought you weighty tidings. Ay, ay,—Peter Kanzler has many irons in the fire, folk say.
[To himself.] What to do with all this? A thousand paths are open to me—What if I were—? 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 thrusts inside his belt; rises and says:
A word, my young friend!
[Approaching him.] Well—your looks say that the game goes bravely.
Ay, by my soul it does. You have given me a hand of nought but court cards,—queens and knaves——
But what of me, that have brought all these good tidings? Have I nought more to do?
You? Ay, that have you. You belong to the game. You are a king—and king of trumps too.
I a king? Oh, now I understand; you are thinking of my exaltation——
Your exaltation?
Ay; that which you foretold for me, if King Gustav’s men got me in their clutches——
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.
A chain of gold? And it lies with me?
Why then, the devil take doubting! Do you but tell me what I am to do.
I will. But first you must swear me a solemn oath that no living creature in the wide world shall know what I confide to you.
Is that all? You shall have ten oaths, if you will.
Not so lightly, young Sir! ’Tis no jesting matter.
Well, well; I am grave enough.
In the Dales you called yourself a Count’s son;—is’t not so?
Nay—begin you now on that again? Have I not made free confession——
You mistake me. What you said in the Dales was the truth.
The truth? What mean you by that? Tell me but——!
First your oath! The holiest, the most inviolable you can swear.
That you shall have. Yonder on the wall hangs the picture of the Holy Virgin——
The Holy Virgin has grown infirm of late. Know you not what the monk of Wittenberg maintains?
Fie! how can you heed the monk of Wittenberg? Peter Kanzler says he is a heretic.
Well, let us not dispute the matter. Here can I show you a saint will serve full well to make oath by.
[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.
[Approaching the picture.] I swear it—so help me God’s holy word!
But—Christ save me——!
What now?
The picture—! Sure ’tis I myself!
’Tis old Sten Sture, even as he lived and moved in his youthful years.
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?
So it was.
Ah, I have it, I have it! I am——
You are Sten Sture’s son, good Sir!
[With the quiet of amazement.] I Sten Sture’s son!
On the mother’s side too your blood is noble. Peter Kanzler spoke not the truth, if he said that a poor peasant woman was your mother.
Oh strange! oh marvellous!—But can I believe——?
You may believe all that I tell you. But remember, all this will be merely your ruin, if you should forget what you swore to me by your father’s salvation.
Forget it? Nay, that you may be sure I never shall.—But you, to whom I have given my word,—tell me—who are you?
My name is Nils Lykke.
[Surprised.] Nils Lykke? Surely not the Danish Councillor?
Even so.
And it was you—? ’Tis strange. How come you——?
——to be receiving missives from Peter Kanzler? You marvel at that?
I cannot deny it. He has ever named you as our bitterest foe——
And therefore you mistrust me?
Nay, not wholly that; but—well, the devil take musing!
Well said. Go but your own way, and you are as sure of the halter as you are of a Count’s title and a chain of gold if you trust to me.
That will I. My hand upon it, dear Sir! Do you but help me with good counsel as long as there is need; when counsel gives place to blows, I shall look to myself.
’Tis well. Come with me now into yonder chamber, and I will tell you how all these matters stand, and what you have still to do.
[With a glance at the picture.] I Sten Sture’s son! Oh, marvellous as a dream——!
ACT FOURTH
The Banquet Hall, as before, but without the supper-table.
Biörn, the majordomo, enters carrying a lighted branch-candlestick, and lighting in Lady Inger and Olaf Skaktavl by the second door on the left. Lady Inger has a bundle of papers in her hand.
[To Biörn.] And you are sure my daughter had speech with the knight, here in the hall?
[Putting down the branch-candlestick on the table on the left.] Sure as may be. I met her even as she stepped into the passage.
And she seemed greatly moved? Said you not so?
She looked all pale and disturbed. I asked if she were sick; she answered not, but said: “Go to my mother and tell her the knight sets forth from here ere daybreak; if she have letters or messages for him, beg her not to delay him needlessly.” And then she added somewhat that I heard not rightly.