preparations for the succession, but he was resolved to sell his life dearly. The Varbelgs, who had not the faintest suspicion that he was near, were sleeping soundly after a night's carouse, when suddenly the war-horn resounded, and the storm-bell rang. The prows of the royal fleet were then seen emerging from the fog and making for the piers. The duke, as soon as the alarm was given, tumbled out of bed and flung on his clothes. The dawn was just reddening in the east, and the fog was lifting. The ships were now at the piers, and the troops were disembarking. The Varbelgs supposed, at first, that it was Earl Knut, who had come to revenge his defeat at Laaka. But they were soon undeceived. When they caught sight of the royal banner they knew that King Haakon was not far away. Strangely enough, though they saw him storming forward, every moment exposing himself to danger, nay, even rushing on ahead of his men, they were not eager to kill him. They feared that the duke's cause was lost, and though they fought bravely, they had no hope of victory. The duke fled and was pursued by the Birchlegs; but they did not succeed in overtaking him. Many men fell in that fight, but many more sought refuge in the churches and were pardoned. It was, indeed, the duke himself, as we have seen, who was the originator as well as the leader of the rebellion. He was not the expression and embodiment of a disloyal feeling among the people, as many previous pretenders had been, but the rebellion was solely due to his own personal ambition. As long as he was alive, therefore, the brands of civil war might at any moment be rekindled. It was this reflection which prompted the king, in this instance, to smother all natural feeling for his father-in-law and not to shrink from punishing him as he had deserved. Seven days after the battle of Oslo he sent fifteen well-manned ships to Nidaros, whither the duke had fled, under the command of Aasulf of Austraat, a resolute man and one of Skule's bitterest enemies. On his arrival in Nidaros, Skule fled to the woods, roaming about for two days and nights with a few friends who would not desert him. At last the friars of the monastery of Elgeseter took pity on him, provided him and his followers with cowls, and hid them in a tower. The tidings soon reached Aasulf that some strange-looking monks had been seen to enter the cloister, and he immediately set out with his men and demanded their surrender. When the friars refused, some of the Birchlegs set fire to the monastery. Others endeavored to put out the fire, but their efforts were futile. The smoke and the heat now compelled the duke and his companions to descend from the tower. As he stepped out of the gate he held his shield above his head, saying: "Hew me not in the face; for it is not meet thus to treat chieftains." Instantly the Birchlegs fell upon him and slew him (1240).