Håkon.
I have marked that the friendship between the Duke and myself thrives best when we hold aloof from one another; therefore farewell, Bishop Nicholas, and God be with you where you are now to go. [Goes towards the door.
Duke Skule.
[Softly and uneasily.] Bishop, Bishop, he is going!
Bishop Nicholas.
[Suddenly and with wild energy.] Stay, King Håkon!
Håkon.
[Stops.] What now?
Bishop Nicholas.
You shall not leave this room until old Bishop Nicholas has spoken his last word!
Håkon.
[Instinctively lays his hand upon his sword.] Mayhap you have come well attended to Viken, Duke.
Duke Skule.
I have no part in this.
Bishop Nicholas.
'Tis by force of words that I will hold you. Where there is a burial in the house, the dead man ever rules the roost; he can do and let alone as he will—so far as his power may reach. Therefore will I now speak my own funeral-speech; in days gone by, I was ever sore afraid lest King Sverre should come to speak it
