with him, in all secrecy, a little child. "Twas not
folk's evil tongues I feared; but our cause would have suffered
had it got about the Sten Sture stood so near to me.
The child was given to Peter Kanzler to rear. I waited for
better times, that were soon to come. They never came. Sten
Sture took a wife two years later in Sweden, and, dying, left
a widow----

OLAF SKAKTAVL. ----And with her a lawful heir to his name and
rights.

LADY INGER. Time after time I wrote to Peter Kanzler and
besought him to give me back my child. But he was ever deaf to
my prayers. "Cast in your lot with us once for all," he said,
"and I send your son back to Norway; not before." But 'twas even
that I dared not do. We of the disaffected party were then ill
regarded by many timorous folk. If these had got tidings of how
things stood--oh, I know it!--to cripple the mother they had
gladly meted to the child the fate that would have been King
Christiern's had he not saved himself by flight.[1]
But besides that, the Danes were active. They spared neither
threats nor promises to force me to join them.

OLAF SKAKTAVL. 'Twas but reason. The eyes of all men were fixed
on you as the vane that should show them how to shape their course.

LADY INGER. Then came Herlof Hyttefad's revolt. Do you remember
that time, Olaf Skaktavl? Was it not as though the whole land
was filled with the sunlight of a new spring. Mighty voices
summoned me to come forth;--yet I dared not. I stood doubting--
far from the strife--in my lonely castle. At times it seemed as
though the Lord God himself were calling me; but then would come
the killing dread again to paralyse my will. "Who will win?"
that was the question that was ever ringing in my ears.
'Twas but a short spring that had come to Norway. Herlof
Hyttefad, and many more with him, were broken on the wheel during
the months that followed. None could call me to account; yet
there lacked not covert threats from Denmark. What if they knew
the secret? At last methought they must know; I knew not how
else to understand their words.
'Twas even in that time of agony that Gyldenlove the High
Steward, came hither and sought me in marriage. Let any mother
that has feared for her child think herself in my place!--and
homeless in the hearts of my countrymen.
Then came the quiet years. There was now no whisper of revolt.
Our masters might grind us down even as heavily as they liste