"Thou Judge of Israel," he prayed, in the terrible words which had descended to him through centuries, "Thou that sittest upon the cherubims, come down and help Thy people. O, most mighty God, who art more pleased with the sacrifice of thanksgiving than with the burnt offerings of bullocks and goats, keep now our mouths from guile and deceit, from slander and from obloquy. O Lord God most holy, O Lord most mighty, endue Thy ministers with righteousness. Give them wisdom that they may judge wisely. Give them mercy that they may judge mercifully. Let them judge this nation as Thou wilt judge Thy people. Let them remember that he who takes the name of justice for his own profit or hatred or revenge is worse than the vulture that watches for the carcase. Let them not forget that howsoever high they stand or proudly they bear themselves, nothing shall they take from hence but the oak for their coffin. Let them be sure that when Thou shalt appear with a consuming fire before Thee and a tempest round about Thee, calling the heaven and the earth together, no portion can they have in that day like to the portion of thine inheritance."
The fierce prayer came to an end, and then the Judge, holding his sword erect, read his charge and repeated his oath, to deal justly between man and man, even as the sword stood upright before him. And the vast assembly of rude men in sheepskins and in homespun looked on and listened, all silent and solemn, all worshipful of law and reverent of its forms.
The oath being taken, the Judge had laid the sword aside and begun to promulgate the new laws, reading them clause by clause, first in Icelandic and then in Danish, when there was an uneasy movement at the outskirts of the crowd to the west of the Mount.
"The Governor," whispered one. "It's himself," muttered another. "He's here at last," murmured a third, and dark were the faces turned round to see. It was the Governor, indeed, and he pushed his way through the closely-packed people, who saw him coming, but stood together like a wall until riven apart by his pony's feet. At the causeway he dismounted and stepped up to the top of the Mount. He looked old and feeble and torn by evil passions; his straight gray hair hung like a blasted sheaf on to his shoulders, his forehead was blistered with blue veins, his cheeks were guttered with wrinkles, his little eyes were cruel, his jaw was broad and heavy, and his mouth was hard and square.
The Judge made him no obeisance, but went on with his reading. The Bishop seemed not to see him, but gazed steadfastly forward. The Thing-men gave no sign.
He stood a moment, and looked around, and the people below could see his wrath rising like a white hand across his haggard face. Then he interrupted and said, "Chief Justice, I have something to say."
All heard the words, and the Speaker stopped, and, amid the breathless silence of the people, he answered quietly, "There will be a time and a place for that, your Excellency."
"The time is now, and the place is here," cried Jorgen Jorgensen, in a tense voice, and quivering with anger. "Listen to me. The rebel and traitor who once usurped the government of this island has escaped."
"Escaped!" cried a hundred voices.
"Michael Sunlocks!" cried as many more.