For raising you highest, my one condition
is just that you follow your heart’s ambition;
all Norway is yours, to the kingship I’ll speed you,
if only you vow that your son shall succeed you!
King Skule.
[Raising his hand as if for an oath.] My son shall—-[Stops suddenly, and breaks forth in terror.] The church-robber! All the might to him! Ha! now I understand;—you seek for his soul’s perdition! Get thee behind me, get thee behind me! [Stretches out his arms to heaven.] Oh have mercy on me, thou to whom I now call for help in my sorest need!
[He falls prone to the earth.
The Monk.
Accursëd! He’s slipped through my fingers at last—
and I thought of a surety I held him so fast!