CARLOMAN.
[with a sudden movement]
Pepin, we have not looked upon the face
Of Zacharias: I am bound for Rome.
PEPIN.
A pilgrimage? Stay where you are! Tut, tut!
Wait till he seek us. Frankland is his hope
Against the Lombard: when he seeks us then
We twain will offer him our dutiful,
Strong swords, and keep St. Peter’s realm intact;
While, in return, that gracious influence,
That something that we lack to give our strength
Supremacy, shall be poured down on us.
CARLOMAN.
Something we lack! I dream of a possession—
Pepin, the world if I became a monk
Would recognise that I lay down my rights,
None wrests them from me.
PEPIN.
Are you clean gone mad!
Become a monk, you, Consul, Patriarch!
Our mother had been Christian scarce a year
Before your birth, and haply took the priest
Too much into her privacy. By Thor—
CARLOMAN.
[taking him by the throat]
No, but by God Incarnate, you shall swear
You own me son of Christendom’s great guard
Ere you again draw unimperilled breath!
I, Carloman, your elder, the first-born
Of Charles Martel, of my own choice renounce
My portion in his honours. Own my birthright!