Nay, that I know not. ’Tis true they talk of secret ways in the vaults beneath; but no one knows them save Lady Inger—and mayhap Mistress Elina. JENS BIELKE. The devil! NILS LYKKE. It is well. You may go. FINN. Should you need me in aught again, you have but to open the second door on the right in the Banquet Hall, and I shall presently be at hand. NILS LYKKE. Good. [_Points to the entrance-door._ FINN _goes out._ JENS BIELKE. Now, by my soul, dear friend and brother—this campaign is like to end but scurvily for both of us. NILS LYKKE. [_With a smile._] Oh—not for me, I hope. JENS BIELKE. Say you so? First of all, there is little honour to be won in hunting an overgrown whelp like this Nils Sture. Are we to think him mad or in his sober senses after the pranks he has played? First he breeds bad blood among the peasants; promises them help and all their hearts can desire;—and then, when it comes to the pinch, off he runs to hide behind a petticoat! Moreover, to say truth, I repent that I followed your counsel and went not my own way. NILS LYKKE. [_To himself._] Your repentance comes somewhat late, my brother! JENS BIELKE. For, let me tell you, I have never loved digging at a badger’s earth. I looked for quite other sport. Here have I ridden all the way from Jæmteland with my horsemen, and have got me a warrant from the Trondhiem commandant to search for the rebel wheresoever I please. All his tracks point towards Östråt—— NILS LYKKE. He is here! He is here, I tell you! JENS BIELKE. Were it not liker, in that case, that we had found the gate barred and well guarded? Would that we had; then could I have found use for my men-at-arms—— NILS LYKKE. But instead, the gate is very courteously thrown open to us. Mark now—if Inger Gyldenlöve’s fame belie her not, I warrant she will not let her guests lack for either meat or drink. JENS BIELKE. Ay, to turn us aside from our errand! And what wild whim was that of yours to have me leave my horsemen half a league from the castle? Had we come in force—— NILS LYKKE.