Håkon.
What way?
The Birchleg.
Past Martestokke, up towards Eidsvold; most of them had horses waiting up in the streets, else had not one escaped with his life.
Håkon.
Thanks be to God that has helped us yet again! Now may the Queen safely come ashore from the fleet.
Gregorius Jonsson.
[Points off to the right.] She has already landed, my lord; there she comes!
Håkon.
[To those nearest him.] The heaviest task is yet before me; she is a loving daughter;—listen—no word to her of the danger that threatens her child. Swear to me, one and all, to keep ward over your King's son; but let her know nothing.
The Men.
[Softly.] We swear it.
Margrete.
[Enters, with ladies and attendants, from the right.] Håkon, my husband! Heaven has shielded you; you have conquered and are unhurt!
Håkon.
Yes, I have conquered. Where is the child?
Margrete.
On board the King's ship, in the hands of trusty men.
