The best heart in Norway burst, when Krummedike’s hirelings struck him down. Methinks I still can see the long procession that passed into the banquet-hall, heavily, two by two. There he lay on his bier, white as a spring cloud, with the axe-cleft in his brow. I may safely say that the boldest men in Norway were gathered there that night. Lady Margrete stood by her dead husband’s head, and we swore as one man to venture lands and life to avenge this last misdeed and all that had gone before.—Inger Gyldenlöve,—who was it that burst through the circle of men? A maiden—almost a child—with fire in her eyes and her voice half choked with tears.—What was it she swore? Shall I repeat your words?

I swore what the rest of you swore; neither more nor less.

You remember your oath—and yet you have forgotten it.

And how did the others keep their promise? I speak not of you, Olaf Skaktavl, but of your friends, all Norway’s nobles? Not one of them, in all these years, has had the courage to be a man; yet they lay it to my charge that I am a woman.

I know what you would say. Why have they bent to the yoke, and not defied the tyrants to the last? ’Tis but too true; there is base metal enough in our noble houses nowadays. But had they held together—who knows what then might have been? And you could have held them together, for before you all had bowed.

My answer were easy enough, but ’twould scarce content you. So let us leave speaking of what cannot be changed. Tell me rather what has brought you to Östråt. Do you need harbour? Well, I will try to hide you. If you would have aught else, speak out; you shall find me ready——

For twenty years have I been homeless. In the mountains of Jæmteland my hair has grown grey. My dwelling has been with wolves and bears.—You see, Lady Inger—I need you not; but both nobles and people stand in sore need of you.

The old burden.

Ay, it sounds but ill in your ears, I know; yet hear it you must, for all that. In brief, then: I come from Sweden: troubles are brewing: the Dales are ready to rise.

I know it.

Peter Kanzler^[19] is with us—secretly, you understand.

[Starting.] Peter Kanzler?

’Tis he that has sent me to Östråt.

[Rises.] Peter Kanzler, say you?

He himself;—but mayhap you no longer know him?

[Half to herself.] Only too well!—But tell me, I pray you,—what message do you bring?

When the rumour of the rising reached the border mountains, where I then was, I set off at once into Sweden. ’Twas not hard to guess that Peter Kanzler had a finger in the game. I sought him out and offered to stand by him;—he knew me of old, as you know, and knew that he could trust me; so he has sent me hither.

[Impatiently.] Yes yes,—he sent you hither to——?

[With secrecy.] Lady Inger—a stranger comes to Östråt to-night.

[Surprised.] What? Know you that——?

Assuredly I know it. I know all. ’Twas to meet him that Peter Kanzler sent me hither.

To meet him? Impossible, Olaf Skaktavl,—impossible!

’Tis as I tell you. If he be not already come, he will soon——

Doubtless, doubtless; but——

Then you knew of his coming?

Ay, surely. He sent me a message. ’Twas therefore they opened to you as soon as you knocked.

[Listens.] Hush!—some one is riding along the road. [Goes to the window.] They are opening the gate.

[Looks out.] It is a knight and his attendant. They are dismounting in the courtyard.

’Tis he then. His name?

You know not his name?

Peter Kanzler refused to tell it me. He would say no more than that I should find him at Östråt the third evening after Martinmas——

Ay; even to-night.

He was to bring letters with him; and from them, and from you, I was to learn who he is.

Then let me lead you to your chamber. You have need of rest and refreshment. You shall soon have speech with the stranger.

Well, be it as you will.

[Softly.] No one?

[In the same tone.] No one, master!

And we may depend on you in all things?

The commandant in Trondhiem has ever given me a name for trustiness.

’Tis well; he has said as much to me. First of all, then—has there come any stranger to Östråt to-night, before us?

Ay; a stranger came an hour since.

[Softly, to Jens Bielke.] He is here. [Turns again to Finn.] Would you know him again? Have you seen him?

Nay, none has seen him, that I know, but the gatekeeper. He was brought at once to Lady Inger, and she——

Well? What of her? He is not gone again already?

No; but it seems she holds him hidden in one of her own rooms; for——

It is well.

[Whispers.] Then the first thing is to put a guard on the gate; so are we sure of him.

[With a smile.] H’m! [To Finn.] Tell me—is there any way of leaving the castle, save by the gate? Gape not at me so! I mean—can one escape from Östråt unseen, though the castle gate be barred?

Nay, that I know not. ’Tis true they talk of secret ways in the vaults beneath; but no one knows them save Lady Inger—and mayhap Mistress Elina.

The devil!

It is well. You may go.

Should you need me in aught again, you have but to open the second door on the right in the Banquet Hall, and I shall presently be at hand.

Good.

[Points to the entrance-door. Finn goes out.

Now, by my soul, dear friend and brother—this campaign is like to end but scurvily for both of us.

[With a smile.] Oh—not for me, I hope.

Say you so? First of all, there is little honour to be won in hunting an overgrown whelp like this Nils Sture. Are we to think him mad or in his sober senses after the pranks he has played? First he breeds bad blood among the peasants; promises them help and all their hearts can desire;—and then, when it comes to the pinch, off he runs to hide behind a petticoat!

Moreover, to say truth, I repent that I followed your counsel and went not my own way.

[To himself.] Your repentance comes somewhat late, my brother!

For, let me tell you, I have never loved digging at a badger’s earth. I looked for quite other sport. Here have I ridden all the way from Jæmteland with my horsemen, and have got me a warrant from the Trondhiem commandant to search for the rebel wheresoever I please. All his tracks point towards Östråt——

He is here! He is here, I tell you!

Were it not liker, in that case, that we had found the gate barred and well guarded? Would that we had; then could I have found use for my men-at-arms——

But instead, the gate is very courteously thrown open to us. Mark now—if Inger Gyldenlöve’s fame belie her not, I warrant she will not let her guests lack for either meat or drink.

Ay, to turn us aside from our errand! And what wild whim was that of yours to have me leave my horsemen half a league from the castle? Had we come in force——

She had made us none the less welcome for that. But mark well that then our coming had made a stir. The peasants round about had held it for an outrage against Lady Inger; she had risen high in their favour once more—and with that, look you, we were ill served.

May be so. But what am I to do now? Count Sture is in Östråt, you say. Ay, but how does that profit me? Be sure Lady Inger Gyldenlöve has as many hiding-places as the fox, and more than one outlet to them. You and I, alone, may go snuffing about here as long as we please. I would the devil had the whole affair!

Well, then, my friend—if you like not the turn your errand has taken, you have but to leave the field to me.

To you? What will you do?

Caution and cunning may in this matter prove of more avail than force of arms.—And to say truth, Captain Jens Bielke—something of the sort has been in my mind ever since we met in Trondhiem yesterday.

Was that why you persuaded me to leave the men-at-arms?

Both your purpose at Östråt and mine could best be served without them; and so——

The foul fiend seize you—I had almost said! And me to boot! Might I not have known that there is guile in all your dealings?

Be sure I shall need all my guile here, if I am to face my foe with even weapons. And let me tell you, ’tis of the utmost moment to me that I acquit me of my mission secretly and well. You must know that when I set forth I was scarce in favour with my lord the King. He held me in suspicion; though I dare swear I have served him as well as any man could, in more than one ticklish charge.

That you may safely boast. God and all men know you for the craftiest devil in all the three kingdoms.

I thank you! Though, after all, ’tis not much to say. But this present errand I count as indeed a crowning test of my powers; for here I have to outwit a woman——

Ha-ha-ha! In that art you have long since given crowning proofs of your skill, dear brother. Think you we in Sweden know not the song— Fair maidens a-many they sigh and they pine: “Ah God, that Nils Lykke were mine, mine, mine!”

Alas, ’tis women of twenty and thereabouts that ditty speaks of. Lady Inger Gyldenlöve is nigh on fifty, and wily to boot beyond all women. ’Twill be no light matter to overmatch her. But it must be done—at any cost. Should I contrive to win certain advantages over her that the King has long desired, I can reckon on the embassy to France next spring. You know that I spent three years at the University in Paris? My whole soul is set on coming thither again, most of all if I can appear in lofty place, a king’s ambassador.—Well, then—is it agreed—do you leave Lady Inger to me? Remember—when you were last at Court in Copenhagen, I made way for you with more than one fair lady——

Nay, truly now—that generosity cost you little; one and all of them were at your beck and call. But let that pass; now that I have begun amiss in this matter, I had as lief that you should take it on your shoulders. Yet one thing you must promise—if the young Count Sture be in Östråt, you will deliver him into my hands, dead or alive!

You shall have him all alive. I, at any rate, mean not to kill him. But now you must ride back and join your people. Keep guard on the road. Should I mark aught that mislikes me, you shall know it forthwith.

Good, good. But how am I to get out——?

The fellow that brought us in will show the way. But go quietly——

Of course, of course. Well—good fortune to you!

Fortune has never failed me in a war with women. Haste you now!

[Stands still for a while; then walks about the room, looking round him; then he says softly:] At last, then, I am at Östråt—the ancient hall whereof a child, two years ago, told me so much.

Lucia. Ay, two years ago she was still a child. And now—now she is dead. [Hums with a half-smile.] “Blossoms plucked are blossoms withered——”

Östråt. ’Tis as though I had seen it all before; as though I were at home here.—In there is the Banquet Hall. And underneath is—the grave-vault. It must be there that Lucia lies.

Were I timorous, I might well find myself fancying that when I set foot within Östråt gate she turned about in her coffin; as I crossed the courtyard she lifted the lid; and when I named her name but now, ’twas as though a voice summoned her forth from the grave-vault.—Maybe she is even now groping her way up the stairs. The face-cloth blinds her, but she gropes on and on in spite of it.

Now she has reached the Banquet Hall! She stands watching me from behind the door!

Come nearer, Lucia! Talk to me a little! Your mother keeps me waiting. ’Tis tedious waiting—and you have helped me to while away many a tedious hour——

Ah, there!—Right, right; there is the deep curtained window. ’Tis there that Inger Gyldenlöve is wont to stand gazing out over the road, as though looking for one that never comes. In there—[looks towards the door on the left]—somewhere in there is Sister Elina’s chamber. Elina? Ay, Elina is her name.

Can it be that she is so rare a being—so wise and so brave as Lucia fancied her? Fair, too, they say. But for a wedded wife—? I should not have written so plainly.——

How will Lady Inger receive me?—She will scarce burn the castle over our heads, or slip me through a trap-door. A stab from behind—? No, not that way either——

Aha!

[Coldly.] My greeting to you, Sir Councillor——

[Bows deeply.] Ah—the Lady of Östråt!

——and my thanks that you have forewarned me of your visit.

I could do no less. I had reason to think that my coming might surprise you——

Truly, Sir Councillor, therein you judged aright. Nils Lykke was indeed the last guest I looked to see at Östråt.

And still less, mayhap, did you think to see him come as a friend?

As a friend? You add mockery to all the shame and sorrow you have heaped upon my house? After bringing my child to the grave, you still dare——

With your leave, Lady Inger Gyldenlöve—on that matter we should scarce agree; for you count as nothing what I lost by that same unhappy chance. I purposed nought but in honour. I was tired of my unbridled life; my thirtieth year was already past; I longed to mate me with a good and gentle wife. Add to all this the hope of becoming your son-in-law——

Beware, Sir Councillor! I have done all in my power to hide my child’s unhappy fate. But because it is out of sight, think not it is out of mind. There may yet come a time——

You threaten me, Lady Inger? I have offered you my hand in amity; you refuse to take it. Henceforth, then, it is to be open war between us?

I knew not there had ever been aught else?

Not on your side, mayhap. I have never been your enemy,—though, as a subject of the King of Denmark, I lacked not good cause.

I understand you. I have not been pliant enough. It has not proved so easy as some of you hoped to lure me over into your camp.—Yet methinks you have nought to complain of. My daughter Merete’s husband is your countryman—further I cannot go. My position is no easy one, Nils Lykke!

That I can well believe. Both nobles and people here in Norway think they have an ancient claim on you—a claim, ’tis said, you have but half fulfilled.

Your pardon, Sir Councillor,—I account for my doings to none but God and myself. If it please you, then, let me understand what brings you hither.

Gladly, Lady Inger! The purpose of my mission to this country can scarce be unknown to you——?

I know the mission that report assigns you. Our King would fain know how the Norwegian nobles stand affected towards him.

Assuredly.

Then that is why you visit Östråt?

In part. But it is far from my purpose to demand any profession of loyalty from you——

What then?

Hearken to me, Lady Inger! You said yourself but now that your position is no easy one. You stand half way between two hostile camps, whereof neither dares trust you fully. Your own interest must needs bind you to us. On the other hand, you are bound to the disaffected by the bond of nationality, and—who knows?—mayhap by some secret tie as well.

[To herself.] A secret tie! Oh God, can he——?

[Notices her emotion, but makes no sign, and continues without change of manner.] You cannot but see that such a position must ere long become impossible.—Suppose, now, it lay in my power to free you from these embarrassments which——

In your power, you say?

First of all, Lady Inger, I would beg you to lay no stress on any careless words I may have used concerning that which lies between us two. Think not that I have forgotten for a moment the wrong I have done you. Suppose, now, I had long purposed to make atonement, as far as might be, where I had sinned. Suppose it were for that reason I had contrived to have this mission assigned me.

Speak your meaning more clearly, Sir Councillor;—I cannot follow you.

I can scarce be mistaken in thinking that you, as well as I, know of the threatened troubles in Sweden. You know, or at least you can guess, that this rising is of far wider aim than is commonly supposed, and you understand therefore that our King cannot look on quietly and let things take their course. Am I not right?

Go on.

[Searchingly, after a short pause.] There is one possible chance that might endanger Gustav Vasa’s throne——

[To herself.] Whither is he tending?

——the chance, namely, that there should exist in Sweden a man entitled by his birth to claim election to the kingship.

[Evasively.] The Swedish nobles have been even as bloodily hewn down as our own, Sir Councillor. Where would you seek for——?

[With a smile.] Seek? The man is found already——

[Starts violently.] Ah! He is found?

——and he is too closely akin to you, Lady Inger, to be far from your thoughts at this moment. [Looks fixedly at her.

The last Count Sture left a son——

[With a cry.] Holy Saviour, how know you——?

[Surprised.] Be calm, Madam, and let me finish.—This young man has till now lived quietly with his mother, Sten Sture’s widow.

[Breathes more freely.] With—? Ah, yes—true, true!

But now he has come forward openly. He has shown himself in the Dales as leader of the peasants; their numbers are growing day by day; and—as mayhap you know—they are finding friends among the peasants on this side of the border-hills.

Sir Councillor,—you speak of all these matters as though they must of necessity be known to me. What ground have I given you to believe so? I know, and wish to know, nothing. All my care is to live quietly within my own domain; I give no countenance to disturbers of the peace; but neither must you reckon on me if it be your purpose to suppress them.

[In a low voice.] Would you still be inactive, were it my purpose to come to their aid?

How am I to understand you?

Have you not seen, then, whither I have been aiming all this time?—Well, I will tell you all, frankly and openly. Know, then, that the King and his Council see clearly that we can have no sure footing in Norway so long as the nobles and the people continue, as now, to think themselves wronged and oppressed. We understand to the full that willing allies are better than sullen subjects; and we have therefore no heartier wish than to loosen the bonds that hamper us, in effect, even as straitly as you. But you will scarce deny that the temper of Norway towards us makes such a step too dangerous—so long as we have no sure support behind us.

And this support——?

Should naturally come from Sweden. But, mark well, not so long as Gustav Vasa holds the helm; his reckoning with Denmark is not yet settled, and mayhap never will be. But a new king of Sweden, who had the people with him, and who owed his throne to the help of Denmark——. Well, you begin to understand me? Then we could safely say to you Norwegians: “Take back your old ancestral rights; choose you a ruler after your own mind; be our friends in need, as we will be yours!”—Mark you well, Lady Inger, herein is our generosity less than it may seem; for you must see that, far from weakening, ’twill rather strengthen us.

And now that I have opened my heart to you so fully, do you too cast away all mistrust. And therefore [confidently]—the knight from Sweden, who came hither an hour before me——

Then you already know of his coming?

Most certainly. ’Tis he whom I seek.