storm. It was not so before. What has befallen to fill me so full of doubt? The burning of the letter? No—that made the uncertainty eternal, but did not add to it. Has Håkon done any great and kingly deed in these later days? No, his greatest deeds were done while I least believed in him. [Seats himself on the right.] What is it? Ha, strange! It comes and goes like a marsh-fire; it dances at the tip of my tongue, as when one has lost a word and cannot find it. [Springs up.] Ha! Now I have it! No! Yes, yes! Now I have it!—"Norway has been a <g>kingdom</g>, it shall become a <g>people</g>; all shall be one, and all shall feel and know that they are one!" Since Håkon spoke those madman's words, he stands ever before me as the rightful king. [Whispers with fixed and apprehensive gaze.] What if God's calling glimmered through these strange words? If God had garnered up the thought till now, and would now strew it forth—and had chosen Håkon for his sower?
Paul Flida.
[Enters from the back.] My lord King, I have tidings for you.
King Skule.
Tidings?
Paul Flida.
A man who comes from down the fiord brings news that the Birchlegs in Tunsberg have launched their ships, and that many men have gathered in the town in these last days.
King Skule.
Good, we will go forth to meet them—to-morrow or the day after.
