Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Heinemann Volume 2).djvu/197

 But Guthorm was the king's son; there yawned an abyss between me and the throne.

And you dared not venture

Then Erling Steinvæg was chosen by the Slittungs. The voice cried within me again: Skule is a greater chieftain than Erling Steinvæg! But I must needs have broken with the Birchlegs,—that was the abyss that time.

And Erling became king of the Slittungs, and after of the Ribbungs, and still you waited!

I waited for Guthorm to die.

And Guthorm died, and Inge Bårdsson, your brother, became king.

Then I waited for my brother's death. He was sickly from the first; every morning, when we met at holy mass, I would cast stolen glances to see whether his sickness increased. Every twitch of pain that crossed his face was as a puff of wind in my sails, and bore me nearer to the throne. Every sigh he breathed in his agony sounded to me like an echoing trumpet-blast, like a herald from afar, proclaiming that the throne should soon be mine. Thus I tore up by the roots every