THE PRETENDERS (1863)
Reading edition
118
CHARACTERS.
Håkon Håkonsson, the King elected by the Birchlegs.
Inga of Varteig, his mother.
Earl Skule.
Lady Ragnhild, his wife.
Sigrid, his sister.
Margrete, his daughter.
Guthorm Ingesson.
Sigurd Ribbung.
Nicholas Arnesson, Bishop of Oslo.
Dagfinn the Peasant, Håkon’sHåkon’s marshal.
Ivar Bodde, his chaplain.
Vegard Væradal, one of his guard.
Gregorius Jonsson, a nobleman.
Paul Flida, a nobleman.
Ingeborg, Andres Skialdarband’s wife.
Peter, her son, a young priest.
Sira Viliam, Bishop Nicholas’s chaplain.
Master Sigard of Brabant, a physician.
Jatgeir Skald, an Icelander.
Bård Bratte, a chieftain from the Trondhiem district.
Populace and Citizens of Bergen, Oslo, and Nidaros.
Priests, Monks, and Nuns.
Guests, Guards, and Ladies.
Men-at-Arms, etc. etc.
The action passes in the first half of the Thirteenth Century.
Pronunciation of Names: Håkon=Hoakoon (“oa” as in “board”); Skule=Skoolë; Margrete=Margraytë; Guthorm=Gootorm; Sigurd Ribbung=Sigoord Ribboong; Dagfinn (“a” as in “hard”); Ivar Bodde=Eevar Boddë; Vegard=Vaygard; Jonsson=Yoonson; Flida=Fleeda; Ingeborg=Ingheborg; Jatgeir=Yatgheir; Bård Bratte=Board Brattë. The name “Ingeborg” appears as “Ingebjörg” in Ibsen’s text. The form I have substituted is equally current in Norway, and less troublesome to pronounce.
119THE PRETENDERS.
HISTORIC PLAY IN FIVE ACTS.
ACT FIRST.
The churchyard of Christ Church, Bergen. At the back rises the church, the main portal of which faces the spectators. In front, on the left, stands Håkon Håkonsson, with Dagfinn the Peasant, Vegard of Væradal, Ivar Bodde, and several other nobles and chieftains. Opposite to him stand Earl Skule, Gregorius Jonsson, Paul Flida, and others of the Earl’s men. Further back on the same side are seen Sigurd Ribbung and his followers, and a little way from him Guthorm Ingesson, with several chiefs. Men-at-arms line the approaches to the church; the common people fill the churchyard; many are perched in the trees and seated on the walls; all seem to await, in suspense, the occurrence of some event. All the church bells of the town are ringing far and near.
Earl Skule.
[Softly and impatiently, to Gregorius Jonsson.] Why tarry they so long in there?
120Gregorius Jonsson.
Hush! The psalm is beginning.
[From inside the closed church doors, to the accompaniment of trumpets, is heard a Choir of Monks and Nuns singing Domine cœli, etc. etc. While the singing is going on, the church door is opened from inside; in the porch Bishop Nicholas is seen, surrounded by Priests and Monks.
Bishop Nicholas.
[Steps forward to the doorway and proclaims with uplifted crozier.] Inga of Varteig is even now bearing the iron on behalf of Håkon the Pretender.
[The church door is closed again; the singing inside continues.
Gregorius Jonsson.
[In a low voice, to the Earl.] Call upon Holy King Olaf to protect the right.
Earl Skule.
[Hurriedly, with a deprecating gesture.] Not now. Best not remind him of me.
Ivar Bodde.
[Seizing Håkon by the arm.] Pray to the Lord thy God, Håkon Håkonsson.
Håkon.
No need; I am sure of him.
[The singing in the church grows louder; all uncover; many fall upon their knees and pray.
121Gregorius Jonsson.
[To the Earl.] A solemn hour for you and for many!
Earl Skule.
[Looking anxiously towards the church.] A solemn hour for Norway.
Paul Flida.
[Near the Earl.] Now is the glowing iron in her hands.
Dagfinn.
[Beside Håkon.] They are coming down the nave.
Ivar Bodde.
Christ protect thy tender hands, Inga, mother of the King!
Håkon.
Surely all my life shall reward her for this hour.
Earl Skule.
[Who has been listening intently, breaks out suddenly.] Did she cry out? Has she let the iron fall?
Paul Flida.
[Goes up.] I know not what it was.
Gregorius Jonsson.
Hark to the women weeping in the outer hall!
The Choir in the Church.
[Breaks forth in jubilation.] Gloria in excelsis Deo!
[The doors are thrown open. Inga comes forth, followed by Nuns, Priests, and Monks.
122INGA.
[On the church steps.] God has given judgment! Behold these hands; with them I bore the iron!
Voices amongst the Multitude.
They are tender and white as before!
Other Voices.
Fairer still!
The whole Multitude.
He is Håkon’s son! He is Sverre’s[21] grandson!
Håkon.
[Embraces her.] Thanks to thee, thanks to thee, blessed among women!
Bishop Nicholas.
[In passing, to the Earl.] ’Twas ill done to press for the ordeal.
Earl Skule.
Nay, my lord Bishop, needs must we pray for God’s voice in this matter.
Håkon.
[Deeply moved, holding Inga by the hand.] It is done, then, that which my every fibre cried out against—that which has made my heart shrivel and writhe within me——
Dagfinn.
[Turning towards the multitude.] Ay, look upon this woman and bethink you, all that are gathered here! Who ever doubted her word, until certain folk required that it should be doubted.
123Paul Flida.
Doubt has whispered in every corner from the hour when Håkon the Pretender was borne, a little child, into King Inge’s[22] hall.
Gregorius Jonsson.
And last winter it swelled to a roar, and sounded forth over the land, both north and south; I trow every man can bear witness to that.
Håkon.
I myself can best bear witness to it. Therefore have I yielded to the counsel of many faithful friends, and humbled myself as no other chosen king has done for many a day. I have proved my birth by the ordeal, proved my right, as the son of Håkon Sverresson, to succeed to the throne of Norway. I will not now question who fostered the doubt, and made it, as the Earl’s kinsman says, swell into a roar; but this I know, that I have suffered bitterly under it. I have been chosen king from boyhood, but little kingly honour has been shown me, even where it seemed I might look for it most securely. I will but remind you of last Palm Sunday in Nidaros,[23] when I went up to the altar to make my offering, and the Archbishop turned away and made as though he saw me not, to escape greeting me as kings are wont to be greeted. Yet such slights I could easily have borne, had not open war been like to break loose in the land; that I must needs hinder.
Dagfinn.
It may be well for kings to hearken to counsels 124of prudence; but had my counsel been heard in this matter, it had not been with hot iron, but with cold steel that Håkon Håkonsson had called for judgment between himself and his foes.
Håkon.
Curb yourself, Dagfinn; think what beseems the man who is to be foremost in the State.
Earl Skule.
[With a slight smile.] ’Tis easy to call every one the King’s foe who chimes not with the King’s will. Methinks he is the King’s worst foe who would counsel him against making good his right to the kingship.
Håkon.
Who knows? Were my right alone in question, mayhap I had not paid so dear to prove it; but higher things are here at stake: my calling and my duty. Deep and warm is the faith within me—and I blush not to own it—that I alone am he who in these times can sway the land to its weal. Kingly birth begets kingly duty——
Earl Skule.
There are others here who bear themselves the like fair witness.
Sigurd Ribbung.
That do I, and with full as good ground. My grandfather was King Magnus Erlingsson——
Håkon.
Ay, if your father, Erling Steinvæg, was indeed King Magnus’s son; but most folk deny it, and in that matter none has yet faced the ordeal.
125Sigurd Ribbung.
The Ribbungs chose me as king of their own free will, whereas ’twas by threats that Dagfinn the Peasant and other Birchlegs[24] gained for you the name of King.
Håkon.
Ay, so ill had you dealt with Norway that the stock of Sverrë had to claim its right with threats.
Guthorm Ingesson.
I am of the stock of Sverrë as much as you——
Dagfinn.
But not in the true male line.
Bishop Nicholas.
You come on the spindle side, Guthorm.
Guthorm Ingesson.
Yet this I know, that my father, Ingë Bårdsson, was lawfully chosen king of Norway.
Håkon.
Because none knew that Sverrë’s grandson was alive. From the day that became known, he held the kingdom in trust for me—not otherwise.
126Earl Skule.
That cannot truly be said; Ingë was king all his days, with all lawful power and without reserve. ’Tis true enough that Guthorm has but little claim, for he was born out of wedlock; but I am King Ingë’s lawfully begotten brother, and the law is with me if I claim, and take, his full inheritance.
Dagfinn.
Ah, Sir Earl, of a truth you have taken full inheritance, not of your father’s wealth alone, but of all the goods Håkon Sverresson left behind him.
Bishop Nicholas.
Not all, good Dagfinn. Respect the truth;—King Håkon has kept a brooch and the golden ring he wears on his arm.
Håkon.
Be that as it will; with God’s help I shall win myself wealth again. And now, ye barons and thanes, ye churchmen and chieftains and men-at-arms, now it is time we held the folkmote, as has been agreed. I have sat with bound hands until this day; methinks no man will blame me for longing to have them loosed.
Earl Skule.
There are others in like case, Håkon Håkonsson.
Håkon.
[His attention arrested.] What mean you, Sir Earl?
127Earl Skule.
I mean that all we Pretenders have the same cause for longing. We have all alike been straitly bound, for none of us has known how far his right might reach.
Bishop Nicholas.
The Church has been even as unstable as the kingdom; but now must we abide by the sainted King Olaf’s law.
Dagfinn.
[Half aloud.] Fresh subtleties!
[Håkon’s men gather more closely together.
Håkon.
[With forced calmness, advances a couple of paces towards the Earl.] I would fain think I have not rightly taken your meaning. The ordeal has made good my birthright to the kingdom, and therefore, as I deem, the folkmote has nought to do but to confirm my election, made at the Örething[25] six years ago.
Several of the Earl’s and Sigurd’s Men.
No, no! That we deny!
Earl Skule.
’Twas with no such thought that we agreed to hold the folkmote here. The ordeal has not given you the kingdom; it has but proved your title to come forward to-day, along with the other Pretenders here present, and contend for the right you hold to be yours——
128Håkon.
[Constraining himself to be calm.] That means, in brief, that for six years I have unlawfully borne the name of King, and you, Sir Earl, have for six years unlawfully ruled the land as regent for me.
Earl Skule.
In no wise. When my brother died, ’twas needful that some one should bear the kingly title. The Birchlegs, and most of all Dagfinn the Peasant, were active in your cause, and hastened your election through before we others could set forth our claims.
Bishop Nicholas.
[To Håkon.] The Earl would say that that election gave you but the use of the kingly power, not the right to it.
Earl Skule.
You have held all the marks of kingship; but Sigurd Ribbung and Guthorm Ingesson and I hold ourselves to the full as near inheritors as you; and now shall the law judge between us, and say whose shall be the inheritance for all time.
Bishop Nicholas.
In truth, Earl Skule reads the case aright.
Earl Skule.
There has been talk more than once in these years of both ordeal and folkmote; but something has ever come between. And, Sir Håkon, if you deemed your right for ever fixed by the first election, how came you to accept the ordeal?
129Dagfinn.
[Exasperated.] To your swords, King’s men, let them decide!
Many of the King’s Men.
[Rushing forward.] Down with the King’s enemies!
Earl Skule.
[Calls to his men.] Slay none! Wound none! Only keep them off.
Håkon.
[Restraining his men.] Up with your blades, all who have drawn them!—Up with your blades, I say! [Calmly.] You make things tenfold worse for me by such doings.
Earl Skule.
Even so are men flying at each other’s throats all the country over. You see now, Håkon Håkonsson; does not this show clearly what you have to do, if you care aught for the country’s peace and the lives of men?
Håkon.
[After some reflection.] Yes—I see it. [Takes Inga by the hand and turns to one of those standing by him.] Torkell, you were a trusty man in my father’s guard; take this woman to your own abode and see you tend her well; she was very dear to Håkon Sverresson.—God bless you, my mother,—now I must gird me for the folkmote. [Inga presses his hand, and goes with Torkell. Håkon is silent awhile, then steps forward and says with emphasis:] The law shall decide, and it alone. Ye Birchlegs who, at the Örething, took me for 130your King, I free you from the oath ye sware to me. You, Dagfinn, are no longer my marshal; I will not appear with marshal or with guard,[26] with vassals or with henchmen. I am a poor man; all my inheritance is a brooch and this gold ring;—these are scant goods wherewith to reward so many good men’s service. Now, ye other Pretenders, now we stand equal; I will have no advantage of you, save the right which I have from above—that I neither can nor will share with any one.—Let the assembly-call be sounded, and then let God and the Holy King Olaf’s law decide.
[Goes out with his men to the left; blasts of trumpets and horns are heard in the distance.
Gregorius Jonsson.
[To the Earl, as the crowd is departing.] Methought you seemed afraid during the ordeal, and now you look so glad and of good cheer.
Earl Skule.
[Well at ease.] Marked you that he had Sverre’s eyes as he spoke? Whether he or I be chosen king, the choice will be good.
Gregorius Jonsson.
[Uneasily.] But do not you give way. Think of all who stand or fall with your cause.
131Earl Skule.
I stand now upon justice; I no longer fear to call upon Saint Olaf.
[Goes out to the left with his followers.
Bishop Nicholas.
[Hastening after Dagfinn the Peasant.] All goes well, good Dagfinn, all goes well;—but keep the Earl far from the King when he is chosen;—see you keep them far apart!
[All go out to the left, behind the church.
A hall in the Palace. In front, on the left, is a low window; on the right, the entrance-door; at the back, a larger door which leads into the King’s Hall. By the window, a table; chairs and benches stand about.
Lady Ragnhild and Margrete enter by the smaller door; Sigrid follows immediately.
Lady Ragnhild.
In here?
Margrete.
Ay, here it is darkest.
Lady Ragnhild.
[Goes to the window.] And here we can look down upon the mote-stead.
Margrete.
[Looks out cautiously.] Ay, there they are, all gathered behind the church. [Turns, in tears.] Yonder must now betide what will bring so much in its train.
132Lady Ragnhild.
Who will be master in this hall to-morrow?
Margrete.
Oh, hush! So heavy a day I had never thought to see.
Lady Ragnhild.
It had to be; to rule in another’s name was no full work for him.
Margrete.
Ay, it had to be; he could never rest content with but the name of king.
Lady Ragnhild.
Of whom speak you?
Margrete.
Of Håkon.
Lady Ragnhild.
I spoke of the Earl.
Margrete.
There breathe not nobler men than they two.
Lady Ragnhild.
See you Sigurd Ribbung? With what a look of evil cunning he sits there—like a wolf in chains.
Margrete.
Ay, see!—He folds his hands before him on his sword-hilt and rests his chin upon them.
Lady Ragnhild.
He bites his beard and laughs——
133Margrete.
’Tis an evil laugh.
Lady Ragnhild.
He knows that none will further his cause;—’tis that which makes him wroth. Who is yonder thane that speaks now?
Margrete.
That is Gunnar Grionbak.
Lady Ragnhild.
Is he for the Earl?
Margrete.
No, he is for the King——
Lady Ragnhild.
[Looking at her.] For whom say you?
Margrete.
For Håkon Håkonsson.
Lady Ragnhild.
[Looks out; after a short pause.] Where sits Guthorm Ingesson?—I see him not.
Margrete.
Behind his men, lowest of all there—in a long mantle.
Lady Ragnhild.
Ay, there.
Margrete.
He looks as though he were ashamed——
134Lady Ragnhild.
That is for his mother’s sake.
Margrete.
So looked not Håkon.
Lady Ragnhild.
Who speaks now?
Margrete.
[Looking out.] Tord Skolle, the thane of Ranafylke.
Lady Ragnhild.
Is he for the Earl?
Margrete.
No—for Håkon.
Lady Ragnhild.
How motionless the Earl sits listening!
Margrete.
Håkon seems thoughtful—but strong none the less. [With animation.] If there came a traveller from afar, he could pick out those two amongst all the thousand others.
Lady Ragnhild.
See, Margrete! Dagfinn the Peasant drags forth a gilded chair for Håkon——
Margrete.
Paul Flida places one like it behind the Earl——
Lady Ragnhild.
Håkon’s men seek to hinder it!
135Margrete.
The Earl holds fast to the chair——!
Lady Ragnhild.
Håkon speaks wrathfully to him. [Starts back, with a cry, from the window.] Lord Jesus! Saw you his eyes—and his smile——! No, that was not the Earl!
Margrete.
[Who has followed her in terror.] ’Twas not Håkon either! Neither one nor the other!
Sigrid.
[At the window.] Oh pitiful! Oh pitiful!
Margrete.
Sigrid!
Lady Ragnhild.
You here!
Sigrid.
Goes the path so low that leads up to the throne!
Margrete.
Oh, pray with us, that all be guided for the best.
Lady Ragnhild.
[White and horror-stricken, to Sigrid.] Saw you him——? Saw you my husband——? His eyes and his smile—I should not have known him!
Sigrid.
Looked he like Sigurd Ribbung?
Lady Ragnhild.
[Softly.] Ay, he looked like Sigurd Ribbung.
136Sigrid.
Laughed he like Sigurd?
Lady Ragnhild.
Ay, ay!
Sigrid.
Then must we all pray.
Lady Ragnhild.
[With the force of despair.] The Earl must be chosen King! ’Twill work ruin in his soul if he be not the first man in the land!
Sigrid.
[More loudly.] Then must we all pray!
Lady Ragnhild.
Hist! What is that? [At the window.] What shouts! All the men have risen; all the banners and standards wave in the wind.
Sigrid.
[Seizes her by the arm.] Pray, woman! Pray for your husband!
Lady Ragnhild.
Ay, Holy King Olaf, give him all the power in this land!
Sigrid.
[Wildly.] None—none! Else is he lost!
Lady Ragnhild.
He must have the power. All the good in him will grow and blossom should he win it.—Look 137forth, Margrete! Listen! [Starts back a step.] All hands are lifted for an oath!
[Margrete listens at the window.
Lady Ragnhild.
God and St. Olaf, to whom do they swear?
Sigrid.
Pray!
[Margrete listens, and with uplifted hand motions for silence.
Lady Ragnhild.
[After a little while.] Speak!
[From the mote-stead is heard a loud blast of trumpets and horns.
Lady Ragnhild.
God and St. Olaf! To whom have they sworn?
[A short pause.
Margrete.
[Turns her head and says:] They have chosen Håkon Håkonsson king.
[The music of the royal procession is heard, first in the distance and then nearer and nearer. Lady Ragnhild clings weeping to Sigrid, who leads her quietly out on the right; Margrete remains immovable, leaning against the window-frame. The King’s attendants open the great doors, disclosing the interior of the Hall, which is gradually filled by the procession from the mote-stead.
Håkon.
[In the doorway, turning to Ivar Bodde.] Bring 138me a pen and wax and silk—I have parchment here. [Advances exultantly to the table and spreads some rolls of parchment upon it.] Margrete, now am I King!
Margrete.
Hail to my lord and King!
Håkon.
I thank you. [Looks at her and takes her hand.] Forgive me; I forgot that it must wound you.
Margrete.
[Drawing her hand away.] It did not wound me;—of a surety you are born to be king.
Håkon.
[With animation.] Ay, must not all men own it, who remember how marvellously God and the saints have shielded me from all harm? I was but a year old when the Birchlegs bore me over the mountains, in frost and storm, and through the very midst of those who sought my life. At Nidaros I came scatheless from the Baglers[27] when they burnt the town with so great a slaughter, while King Ingë himself barely saved his life by climbing on shipboard up the anchor-cable.
Margrete.
Your youth has been a hard one.
Håkon.
[Looking steadily at her.] Methinks you might have made it easier.
Margrete.
I?
139Håkon.
You might have been so good a foster-sister to me, through all the years when we were growing up together.
Margrete.
But it fell out otherwise.
Håkon.
Ay, it fell out otherwise;—we looked at each other, I from my corner, you from yours, but we seldom spoke——[Impatiently.] What is keeping him? [Ivar Bodde comes with the writing materials.] Are you there? Give me the things!
[Håkon seats himself at the table and writes. A little while after, Earl Skule comes in; then Dagfinn the Peasant, Bishop Nicholas and Vegard Væradal.
Håkon.
[Looks up and lays down his pen.] Know you, Sir Earl, what I am writing here? [The Earl approaches.] This is to my mother; I thank her for all her love, and kiss her a thousand times—here in the letter you understand. She is to be sent eastward to Borgasyssel, there to live with all queenly honours.
Earl Skule.
You will not keep her in the palace?
Håkon.
She is too dear to me, Earl;—a king must have none about him whom he loves too well. A king must act with free hands; he must stand alone 140he must neither be led nor lured. There is so much to be mended in Norway.
[Goes on writing.
Vegard Væradal.
[Softly to Bishop Nicholas.] ’Tis by my counsel he deals thus with Inga, his mother.
Bishop Nicholas.
I knew your hand in it at once.
Vegard Væradal.
But now one good turn deserves another.
Bishop Nicholas.
Wait. I will keep my promise.
Håkon.
[Gives the parchment to Ivar Bodde.] Fold it together and bear it to her yourself, with many loving greetings——
Ivar Bodde.
[Who has glanced at the parchment.] My lord—you write here—“to-day”——!
Håkon.
The wind is fair for a southward course.
Dagfinn.
[Slowly.] Bethink you, my lord King, that she has lain all night on the altar-steps in prayer and fasting.
Ivar Bodde.
And she may well be weary after the ordeal.
141Håkon.
True, true;—my good, kind mother—— [Collects himself.] Well, if she be too weary, let her wait until to-morrow.
Ivar Bodde.
It shall be as you will. [Puts another parchment forward.] But this other, my lord.
Håkon.
That other?—Ivar Bodde, I cannot.
Dagfinn.
[Points to the letter for Inga.] Yet you could do that.
Ivar Bodde.
All things sinful must be put away.
Bishop Nicholas.
[Who has drawn near in the meantime.] Bind the Earl’s hands, King Håkon.
Håkon.
[In a low voice.] Think you that is needful?
Bishop Nicholas.
At no cheaper rate can you buy peace in the land.
Håkon.
Then I can do it! Give me the pen!
[Writes.
Earl Skule.
[To the Bishop, who crosses to the right.] You have the King’s ear, it would seem.
142Bishop Nicholas.
For your behoof.
Earl Skule.
Say you so?
Bishop Nicholas.
Before nightfall you will thank me.
[He moves away.
Håkon.
[Hands the Earl the parchment.] Read that, Earl Skule.
Earl Skule.
[Reads, looks in surprise at the King, and says in a low voice.] You break with Kanga the Young?
Håkon.
With Kanga whom I have loved more than all the world. From this day forth she must never more cross the King’s path.
Earl Skule.
This that you do is a great thing, Håkon. Mine own memory tells me what it must cost.
Håkon.
Whoever is too dear to the King must away.—Tie up the letter. [Gives it to Ivar Bodde.
Bishop Nicholas.
[Bending over the chair.] You have made a great stride towards the Earl’s friendship, my lord King.
Håkon.
[Holds out his hand to him.] I thank you, Bishop 143Nicholas; you counselled me for the best. Ask a grace of me, and I will grant it.
Bishop Nicholas.
Will you?
Håkon.
I promise it on my kingly faith.
Bishop Nicholas.
Then make Vegard Væradal thane of Halogaland.
Håkon.
Vegard? He is well-nigh the trustiest friend I have; I am loath to send him so far from me.
Bishop Nicholas.
The King’s friend must be royally rewarded. Bind the Earl’s hands as I have counselled you, and you will be secure for ever and a day.
Håkon.
[Takes a sheet of parchment.] Vegard shall bear rule in Halogaland. [Writing.] I hereby grant it under my royal hand. [The Bishop retires.
Earl Skule.
[Approaches the table.] What write you now?
Håkon.
[Hands him the sheet.] Read.
Earl Skule.
[Reads, and looks steadily at the King.] Vegard Væradal? In Halogaland?
144Håkon.
The northern part stands vacant.
Earl Skule.
Bethink you that Andres Skialdarband[28] has also a charge in the north. They two are bitter foes;—Andres Skialdarband is of my following——
Håkon.
[Smiling and rising.] And Vegard Væradal of mine. Therefore they must e’en make friends again, the sooner the better. Henceforth there must be no enmity between the King’s men and the Earl’s.
Bishop Nicholas.
Ha!—this may go too far. [Approaches, uneasy.
Earl Skule.
Your thoughts are wise and deep, Håkon.
Håkon.
[Warmly.] Earl Skule, to-day have I taken the kingdom from you—let your daughter share it with me!
Earl Skule.
My daughter!
Margrete.
Oh, God!
Håkon.
Margrete, will you be my Queen?
[Margrete is silent.
Håkon.
[Takes her hand.] Answer me.
145Margrete.
[Softly.] I will gladly be your wife.
Earl Skule.
[Pressing Håkon’s hand.] Peace and friendship from my heart!
Håkon.
I thank you.
Ivar Bodde.
[To Dagfinn.] Heaven be praised; here is the dawn.
Dagfinn.
I almost believe it. Never before have I liked the Earl so well.
Bishop Nicholas.
[Behind him.] Ever on your guard, good Dagfinn—ever on your guard.
Ivar Bodde.
[To Vegard.] Now are you thane in Halogaland; here you have it under the King’s hand.
[Gives him the letter.
Vegard Væradal.
I will thank the King for his favour another time.
[About to go.
Bishop Nicholas.
[Stops him.] Andres Skialdarband is an ugly neighbour; be not cowed by him.
Vegard Væradal.
No one has yet cowed Vegard Væradal. [Goes.
Bishop Nicholas.
[Following.] Be as rock and flint to Andres 146Skialdarband,—and, while I think on’t, take my blessing with you.
Ivar Bodde.
[Who has been waiting behind the King with the parchments in his hand.] Here are the letters, my lord.
Håkon.
Good; give them to the Earl.
Ivar Bodde.
To the Earl? Will you not seal them?
Håkon.
The Earl is wont to do that;—he holds the seal.
Ivar Bodde.
[Softly.] Ay, hitherto—while he was regent—but now!
Håkon.
Now as before;—the Earl holds the seal.
[Moves away.
Earl Skule.
Give me the letters, Ivar Bodde.
[Goes to the table with them, takes out the Great Seal which he wears under his girdle, and seals the letters during the following.
Bishop Nicholas.
[Muttering.] Håkon Håkonsson is King—and the Earl holds the royal seal;—I like that—I like that.
Håkon.
What says my lord Bishop?
147Bishop Nicholas.
I say that God and St. Olaf watch over their holy church. [Goes into the King’s Hall.
Håkon.
[Approaching Margrete.] A wise queen can do great things in the land: I chose you fearlessly, for I know you are wise.
Margrete.
Only that?
Håkon.
What mean you?
Margrete.
Nothing, my lord, nothing.
Håkon.
And you will bear me no grudge if for my sake you have had to forgo fair hopes?
Margrete.
I have forgone no fair hopes for your sake.
Håkon.
And you will stand ever near me, and give me good counsel?
Margrete.
I would fain stand near to you.
Håkon.
And give me good counsel. I thank you for that; a woman’s counsel profits every man, and henceforth I have none but you—my mother I had to send away——
148Margrete.
Ay, she was too dear to you——
Håkon.
And I am King. Farewell then, Margrete! You are so young yet; but next summer shall our bridal be,—and from that hour I swear to keep you by my side in all seemly faith and honour.
Margrete.
[Smiles sadly.] Ay, ’twill be long, I know, ere you send me away.
Håkon.
[Brightly.] Send you away? That will I never do.
Margrete.
[With tears in her eyes.] No, that Håkon does only to those who are too dear to him.
[She goes towards the entrance door. Håkon gazes thoughtfully after her.
Lady Ragnhild.
[From the right.] The King and the Earl tarry here so long! My fears are killing me;—Margrete, what has the King said and done?
Margrete.
Oh, much, much! Last of all, he chose a thane and a Queen.
Lady Ragnhild.
You, Margrete!
Margrete.
[Throws her arms round her mother’s neck.] Yes!
149Lady Ragnhild.
You are to be Queen!
Margrete.
Queen only;—but I think I am glad even of that.
[She and her mother go out to the right.
Earl Skule.
[To Ivar Bodde.] Here are our letters; bear them to the King’s mother and to Kanga.
[Ivar Bodde bows and goes.
Dagfinn.
[In the doorway of the hall.] The Archbishop of Nidaros craves leave to offer King Håkon Håkonsson his homage.
Håkon.
[Draws a deep breath.] At last, then, I am King of Norway.
Earl Skule.
[Places the Great Seal in his girdle.] But I rule the realm.
150
ACT SECOND.
Banquet Hall in the Palace at Bergen. A large bay-window in the middle of the back wall, along which there is a daïs with seats for the ladies. Against the left wall stands the throne, raised some steps above the floor; in the centre of the opposite wall is the great entrance door. Banners, standards, shields and weapons, with many-coloured draperies, hang from the wall-timbers and from the carven rafters. Around the hall stand drinking-tables, with flagons, horns, and beakers.
King Håkon sits upon the daïs, with Margrete, Sigrid, Lady Ragnhild, and many noble ladies. Ivar Bodde stands behind the King’s chair. Round the drinking-tables are seated the King’s and the Earl’s men, with guests. At the foremost table on the right sit, among others, Dagfinn The Peasant, Gregorius Jonsson, and Paul Flida. Earl Skule and Bishop Nicholas are playing chess at a table on the left. The Earl’s house-folk go to and fro, bearing cans of liquor. From an adjoining room, music is heard during the following scene.
Dagfinn.
The fifth day now wears on, yet the henchmen are none the less nimble at setting forth the brimming flagons.
Paul Flida.
It was never the Earl’s wont to stint his guests.
151Dagfinn.
No, so it would seem. So royal a bridal-feast was never seen in Norway before.
Paul Flida.
Earl Skule has never before given a daughter in marriage.
Dagfinn.
True, true; the Earl is a mighty man.
A Man-at-Arms.
He holds a third part of the kingdom. That is more than any earl has held heretofore.
Paul Flida.
But the King’s part is larger.
Dagfinn.
We talk not of that here; we are friends now, and fully at one. [Drinks to Paul.] So let King be King and Earl be Earl.
Paul Flida.
[Laughs.] ’Tis easy to hear that you are a King’s man.
Dagfinn.
That should the Earl’s men also be.
Paul Flida.
Never. We have sworn fealty to the Earl, not to the King.
Dagfinn.
That may yet have to be done.
152Bishop Nicholas.
[To the Earl, under cover of the game.] Hear you what Dagfinn the Peasant says?
Earl Skule.
[Without looking up.] I hear.
Gregorius Jonsson.
[Looking steadily at Dagfinn.] Has the King thoughts of that?
Dagfinn.
Nay, nay,—let be;—no wrangling to-day.
Bishop Nicholas.
The King would force your men to swear him fealty, Earl.
Gregorius Jonsson.
[Louder.] Has the King thoughts of that, I ask?
Dagfinn.
I will not answer. Let us drink to peace and friendship between the King and the Earl. The ale is good.
Paul Flida.
It has had time enough to mellow.
Gregorius Jonsson.
Three times has the Earl prepared the bridal—three times the King promised to come—three times he came not.
Dagfinn.
Blame the Earl for that: he gave us plenty to do in Viken.
153Paul Flida.
’Tis said Sigurd Ribbung gave you still more to do in Vermeland.
Dagfinn.
[Flaring up.] Ay, and who was it that let Sigurd Ribbung slip through their fingers?
Gregorius Jonsson.
Sigurd Ribbung fled from us at Nidaros, that all men know.
Dagfinn.
But no man knows that you did aught to hinder him.
Bishop Nicholas.
[To the Earl, who is pondering on a move.] Hear you, Earl? It was you who let Sigurd Ribbung escape.
Earl Skule.
[Makes a move.] That is an old story.
Gregorius Jonsson.
Have you not heard, then, of the Icelander Andres Torsteinsson, Sigurd Ribbung’s friend——
Dagfinn.
Ay; when Sigurd had escaped, you hanged the Icelander—that I know.
Bishop Nicholas.
[Makes a move and says laughingly to the Earl.] I take the pawn, Sir Earl.[29]
154Earl Skule.
[Aloud.] Take him; a pawn is of small account.
[Makes a move.
Dagfinn.
Ay; that the Icelander found to his cost, when Sigurd Ribbung escaped to Vermeland.
[Suppressed laughter amongst the King’s men; the conversation is continued in a low tone; presently a man comes in and whispers to Gregorius Jonsson.
Bishop Nicholas.
Then I move here, and you have lost.
Earl Skule.
So it would seem.
Bishop Nicholas.
[Leaning back in his chair.] You did not guard the king well at the last.
Earl Skule.
[Strews the pieces topsy-turvy and rises.] I have long been weary of guarding kings.
Gregorius Jonsson.
[Approaches and says in a low tone.] Sir Earl, Jostein[30] Tamb sends word that the ship now lies ready for sea.
155Earl Skule.
[Softly.] Good. [Takes out a sealed parchment.] Here is the letter.
Gregorius Jonsson.
[Shaking his head.] Earl, Earl,—is this well bethought?
Earl Skule.
What?
Gregorius Jonsson.
It bears the King’s seal.
Earl Skule.
I am acting for the King’s good.
Gregorius Jonsson.
Then let the King himself reject the offer.
Earl Skule.
That he will not, if he has his own way. His whole heart is bent on cowing the Ribbungs, therefore he is fain to secure himself on other sides.
Gregorius Jonsson.
Your way may be wise,—but it is dangerous.
Earl Skule.
Leave that to me. Take the letter, and bid Jostein sail forthwith.
Gregorius Jonsson.
It shall be as you command.
[Goes out to the right, and presently comes in again.
156Bishop Nicholas.
[To the Earl.] You have much to see to, it would seem.
Earl Skule.
But small thanks for it.
Bishop Nicholas.
The King has risen.
[Håkon comes down; all the men rise from the tables.
Håkon.
[To the Bishop.] We are rejoiced to see you bear up so bravely and well through all these days of merriment.
Bishop Nicholas.
There comes a flicker now and again, my lord King; but ’twill scarce last long. I have lain sick all the winter through.
Håkon.
Ay, ay,—you have lived a strong life, rich in deeds of fame.
Bishop Nicholas.
[Shakes his head.] Ah, ’tis little enough I have done, and I have much still left to do. If I but knew whether I should have time for it all!
Håkon.
The living must take up the tasks of those who go before, honoured lord; we all have the welfare of the land at heart. [Turns to the Earl.] I marvel much at one thing: that neither of our thanes from Halogaland has come to the bridal.
157Earl Skule.
True; I doubted not that Andres Skialdarband would be here.
Håkon.
[Smiling.] And Vegard Væradal too.
Earl Skule.
Ay, Vegard too.
Håkon.
[In jest.] And I trust you would now have received my old friend better than you did seven years ago on Oslo wharf, when you stabbed him in the cheek so that the blade cut its way out.
Earl Skule.
[With a forced laugh.] Ay, the time that Gunnulf, your mother’s brother, cut off the right hand of Sira Eiliv, my best friend and counsellor.
Bishop Nicholas.
[Merrily.] And when Dagfinn the Peasant and the men-at-arms set a strong night-watch on the King’s ship, saying that the King was unsafe in the Earl’s ward?
Håkon.
[Seriously.] Those days are old and forgotten.
Dagfinn.
[Approaching.] Now may we sound the call to the weapon-sports on the green, if so please you, my lord.
Håkon.
Good. To-day will we give up to nought but 158merriment; to-morrow we must turn our thoughts again to the Ribbungs and the Earl of Orkney.
Bishop Nicholas.
Ay, he denies to pay tribute, is it not so?
Håkon.
Were I once well rid of the Ribbungs, I would myself fare westward.
[Håkon goes towards the daïs, gives his hand to Margrete, and leads her out to the right; the others gradually follow.
Bishop Nicholas.
[To Ivar Bodde.] Who is the man called Jostein Tamb?
Ivar Bodde.
There is a trader from Orkney who bears that name.
Bishop Nicholas.
From Orkney? So, so! And now he sails home again?
Ivar Bodde.
So I think.
Bishop Nicholas.
[Softly.] With a precious freight, Ivar Bodde.
Ivar Bodde.
Corn and raiment, most like.
Bishop Nicholas.
And a letter from Earl Skule.
Ivar Bodde.
[Starting.] To whom?
159Bishop Nicholas.
I know not; it bore the King’s seal——
Ivar Bodde.
[Seizes him by the arm.] Lord Bishop,—is it as you say?
Bishop Nicholas.
Hush! Do not mix me up in the matter.
[Retires.
Ivar Bodde.
Then must I straightway——Dagfinn the Peasant! Dagfinn! Dagfinn——!
[Pushes through the crowd towards the door.
Bishop Nicholas.
[In a tone of commiseration, to Gregorius Jonsson.] Never a day but one or another must suffer in goods or freedom.
Gregorius Jonsson.
Who is it now?
Bishop Nicholas.
A poor trader,—Jostein Tamb methinks they called him.
Gregorius Jonsson.
Jostein——?
Bishop Nicholas.
Dagfinn the Peasant would forbid him to set sail.
Gregorius Jonsson.
Dagfinn, would forbid him, say you?
Bishop Nicholas.
He went even now.
160Gregorius Jonsson.
Pardon, my lord; I must make speed——
Bishop Nicholas.
Ay, do even so, my dear lord;—Dagfinn the Peasant is so hasty.
[Gregorius Jonsson hastens out to the right along with the remainder of the company; only Earl Skule and Bishop Nicholas are left behind in the hall.
Earl Skule.
[Walks up and down in deep thought; he seems suddenly to awaken; looks round him, and says:] How still it has become here of a sudden!
Bishop Nicholas.
The King has gone.
Earl Skule.
And every one has followed him.
Bishop Nicholas.
All, save us.
Earl Skule.
It is a great thing to be King.
Bishop Nicholas.
[Tentatively.] Are you fain to try it, Earl?
Earl Skule.
[With a serious smile.] I have tried it; every night that brings me sleep makes me King of Norway.
161Bishop Nicholas.
Dreams forbode.
Earl Skule.
Ay, and tempt.
Bishop Nicholas.
Not you, surely. In bygone days, that I could understand—but now, when you hold a third part of the kingdom, rule as the first man in the land, and are the Queen’s father——
Earl Skule.
Now most of all—now most of all.
Bishop Nicholas.
Hide nothing! Confess; for verily I can see a great pain is gnawing you.
Earl Skule.
Now most of all, I say. This is the great curse that lies upon my whole life: to stand so near to the highest,—with an abyss between. One leap, and on the other side are the kingship, and the purple robe, the throne, the might, and all! I have it daily before my eyes—but can never reach it.
Bishop Nicholas.
True, Earl, true.
Earl Skule.
When they made Guthorm Sigurdsson king, I was in the full strength of my youth.youth. It was as though a voice cried aloud within me: Away with the child,—I am the man, the strong man!—But 162Guthorm was the king’s son; there yawned an abyss between me and the throne.
Bishop Nicholas.
And you dared not venture——
Earl Skule.
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.
Bishop Nicholas.
And Erling became king of the Slittungs, and after of the Ribbungs, and still you waited!
Earl Skule.
I waited for Guthorm to die.
Bishop Nicholas.
And Guthorm died, and Inge Bårdsson, your brother, became king.
Earl Skule.
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 163thought of brotherly kindness; and Inge died, and Håkon came—and the Birchlegs made him king.
Bishop Nicholas.
And you waited.
Earl Skule.
Methought help must come from above. I felt the kingly strength within me, and I was growing old; every day that passed was a day taken from my life-work. Each evening I thought: To-morrow will come the miracle that shall strike him down and set me in the empty seat.
Bishop Nicholas.
Small was then Håkon’s power; he was no more than a child; it wanted but a single step from you—yet you took it not.
Earl Skule.
That step was hard to take; it would have parted me from my kindred and from all my friends.
Bishop Nicholas.
Ay, there is the rub, Earl Skule,—that is the curse which has lain upon your life. You would fain know every way open at need,—you dare not break all your bridges and keep only one, defend it alone, and on it conquer or fall. You lay snares for your foe, you set traps for his feet, and hang sharp swords over his head; you strew poison in every dish, and you spread a hundred nets for him; but when he walks into your toils you dare not draw the string; if he stretch out his hand for the poison, you think it safer he should fall by 164the sword; if he is like to be caught in the morning, you hold it wiser to wait till eventide.
Earl Skule.
[Looking earnestly at him.] And what would you do, my lord Bishop?
Bishop Nicholas.
Speak not of me; my work is to build up thrones in this land, not to sit on them and rule.
Earl Skule.
[After a short pause.] Answer me one thing, my honoured lord, and answer me truly. How comes it that Håkon can follow the straight path so unflinchingly? He is no wiser, no bolder than I.
Bishop Nicholas.
Who does the greatest work in this world?
Earl Skule.
The greatest man.
Bishop Nicholas.
But who is the greatest man?
Earl Skule.
The bravest.
Bishop Nicholas.
So says the warrior. A priest would say: the man of greatest faith,—a philosopher: the most learned. But it is none of these, Earl Skule. The most fortunate man[31] is the greatest man. It is 165the most fortunate man that does the greatest deeds—he whom the cravings of his time seize like a passion, begetting thoughts he himself cannot fathom, and pointing to paths which lead he knows not whither, but which he follows and must follow till he hears the people shout for joy, and, looking around him with wondering eyes, finds that he has done a mighty deed.
Earl Skule.
Ay, there is that unswerving confidence in Håkon.
Bishop Nicholas.
It is that which the Romans called ingenium.—Truly I am not strong in Latin; but ’twas called ingenium.
Earl Skule.
[Thoughtfully at first, afterwards in increasing excitement.] Is Håkon made of other clay than mine? The fortunate man?—Ay, does not everything thrive with him? Does not everything shape itself for the best, when he is concerned? Even the peasants note it; they say the trees bear fruit twice, and the fowls hatch out two broods every summer, whilst Håkon is king. Vermeland, where he burned and harried, stands smiling with its houses built afresh, and its cornlands bending heavy-eared before the breeze. ’Tis as though blood and ashes fertilised the land where Håkon’s armies pass; ’tis as though the Lord clothed with double verdure what Håkon has trampled down; ’tis as though the holy powers made haste to blot out all evil in his track. And how easy has been his path to the throne! He needed that Inge should die early, and Inge died: his youth needed 166to be watched and warded, and his men kept watch and ward around him; he needed the ordeal, and his mother arose and bore the iron for him.
Bishop Nicholas.
[With an involuntary outburst.] But we—we two——!
Earl Skule.
We?
Bishop Nicholas.
You, I would say—what of you?
Earl Skule.
The right is Håkon’s, Bishop.
Bishop Nicholas.
The right is his, for he is the fortunate one; ’tis even the summit of fortune, to have the right. But by what right has Håkon the right, and not you?
Earl Skule.
[After a short pause.] There are things I pray God to save me from thinking upon.
Bishop Nicholas.
Saw you never an old picture in Christ’s Church at Nidaros? It shows the Deluge rising and rising over all the hills, so that there is but one single peak left above the waters. Up it clambers a whole household, father and mother and son and son’s wife and children;—and the son is hurling the father back into the flood to gain better footing; and he will cast his mother down and his wife and all his children, to win to the top himself;—for up there he sees a handsbreadth of ground, where he 167may keep life in him for an hour.—That, Earl, that is the saga of wisdom, and the saga of every wise man.
Earl Skule.
But the right!
Bishop Nicholas.
The son had the right. He had strength, and the craving for life;—fulfil your cravings and use your strength: so much right has every man.
Earl Skule.
Ay, for that which is good.
Bishop Nicholas.
Words, empty words! There is neither good nor evil, up nor down, high nor low. You must forget such words, else will you never take the last stride, never leap the abyss. [In a subdued voice and insistently.] You must not hate a party or a cause for that the party or the cause would have this and not that; but you must hate every man of a party for that he is against you, and you must hate all who gather round a cause, for that the cause clashes with your will. Whatever is helpful to you, is good—whatever lays stumbling-blocks in your path is evil.
Earl Skule.
[Gazing thoughtfully before him.] What has that throne not cost me, which yet I have not reached! And what has it cost Håkon, who now sits in it so securely! I was young, and I forswore my sweet secret love to ally myself with a powerful house. I prayed to the saints 168that I might be blessed with a son—I got only daughters.
Bishop Nicholas.
Håkon will have sons, Earl—mark that!
Earl Skule.
[Crossing to the window on the right.] Ay—all things fall out to Håkon’s wish.
Bishop Nicholas.
And you—will you suffer yourself to be outlawed from happiness all your life through? Are you blind? See you not that it is a stronger might than the Birchlegs that stands at Håkon’s back, and furthers all his life-work? He has help from above, from—from those that are against you—from those that have been your enemies, even from your birth! And will you bow before these your enemies? Rouse you, man; straighten your back! To what end got you your masterful soul? Bethink you that the first great deed in all the world was done by one who rose against a mighty realm!
Earl Skule.
Who?
Bishop Nicholas.
The angel who rose against the light!
Earl Skule.
And was hurled into the bottomless pit——
Bishop Nicholas.
[Wildly.] And founded there a kingdom, and made himself a king, a mighty king—mightier 169than any of the ten thousand—earls up yonder!
[Sinks down upon a bench beside the table.
Earl Skule.
[Looks long at him.] Bishop Nicholas, are you something more or something less than a man?
Bishop Nicholas.
[Smiling.] I am in the state of innocence: I know not good from evil.
Earl Skule.
[Half to himself.] Why did they send me into the world, if they meant not to order it better for me? Håkon has so firm and unswerving a faith in himself—all his men have so firm and unswerving a faith in him——
Bishop Nicholas.
Let it not be seen that you have no such faith in yourself! Speak as though you had it, swear great oaths that you have it—and all will believe you.
Earl Skule.
Had I a son! Had I but a son, to take all the great heritage after me!
Bishop Nicholas.
[Eagerly.] Earl—if you had a son?
Earl Skule.
I have none.
Bishop Nicholas.
Håkon will have sons.
170Earl Skule.
[Wringing his hands.] And is king-born!
Bishop Nicholas.
[Rising.] Earl—if he were not so?
Earl Skule.
Has he not proved it? The ordeal——
Bishop Nicholas.
And if he were not—in spite of the ordeal?
Earl Skule.
Do you say that God lied in the issue of the ordeal?
Bishop Nicholas.
What was it Inga of Varteig called upon God to witness?
Earl Skule.
That the child she bore in the eastland, in Borgasyssel, was the son of Håkon Sverresson.
Bishop Nicholas.
[Nods, looks round, and says softly.] And if King Håkon were not that child?
Earl Skule.
[Starts a step backwards.] Great God——! [Controls himself.] It is beyond belief.
Bishop Nicholas.
Hearken to me, Earl Skule. I have lived seventy years and six; it begins to go sharply downhill with me now, and I dare not take this secret with me over yonder——
171Earl Skule.
Speak, speak! Is he not the son of Håkon Sverresson?
Bishop Nicholas.
Hear me. It was known to none that Inga was with child. Håkon Sverresson was lately dead, and doubtless she feared Inge Bårdsson, who was then king, and you, and—well, and the Baglers[32] too mayhap. She was brought to bed secretly in the house of Trond the Priest, in Heggen parish, and after nine days she departed homewards; but the child remained a whole year with the priest, she not daring to look to it, and none knowing that it breathed saved Trond and his two sons.
Earl Skule.
Ay, ay—and then?
Bishop Nicholas.
When the child was a year old, it could scarce be kept hidden longer. So Inga made the matter known to Erlend of Huseby—an old Birchleg of Sverre’s days, as you know.
Earl Skule.
Well?
Bishop Nicholas.
He and other chiefs from the Uplands took the child, bore it over the mountains in midwinter, and brought it to the King, who was then at Nidaros.
Earl Skule.
And yet you can say that——?
172Bishop Nicholas.
Needless to say, ’twas a dangerous task for a humble priest to rear a king’s child. So soon as the child was born, he laid the matter before one of his superiors in the church, and prayed for his counsel. This his superior bade Trond send the true king’s son with secrecy to a place of safety, and give Inga another, if she or the Birchlegs should afterwards ask for her child.
Earl Skule.
[Indignantly.] And who was the hound that gave that counsel?
Bishop Nicholas.
It was I.
Earl Skule.
You? Ay, you have ever hated the race of Sverre.
Bishop Nicholas.
I deemed it not safe for the king’s son to fall into your hands.
Earl Skule.
But the priest——?
Bishop Nicholas.
Promised to do as I bade.
Earl Skule.
[Seizing him by the arm.] And Håkon is the other child?
Bishop Nicholas.
If the priest kept his promise.
173Earl Skule.
If he kept it?
Bishop Nicholas.
Trond the Priest departed the land the same winter that the child was brought to King Inge. He journeyed to Thomas Beckett’s grave, and afterwards abode in England till his death.
Earl Skule.
He departed the land, say you? Then must he have changed the children and dreaded the vengeance of the Birchlegs.
Bishop Nicholas.
Or he did not change the children, and dreaded my vengeance.
Earl Skule.
Which surmise hold you for the truth?
Bishop Nicholas.
Either may well be true.
Earl Skule.
But the priest’s sons of whom you spoke?
Bishop Nicholas.
They went with the crusaders to the Holy Land.
Earl Skule.
And there have since been no tidings of them?
Bishop Nicholas.
Ay, tidings there have been.
174Earl Skule.
Where are they?
Bishop Nicholas.
They were drowned in the Greek Sea on the journey forth.
Earl Skule.
And Inga——?
Bishop Nicholas.
Knows nought, either of the priest’s confession or of my counsel.
Earl Skule.
Her child was but nine days old when she left it, you said?
Bishop Nicholas.
Ay, and the child she next saw was over a year——
Earl Skule.
Then no living creature can here bring light! [Paces rapidly to and fro.] Almighty God, can this be true? Håkon—the King—he who holds sway over all this land, not born of royal blood!—And why should it not be like enough? Has not all fortune miraculously followed him?—Why not this also, to be taken as a child from a poor cottar’s hut and laid in a king’s cradle——?
Bishop Nicholas.
Whilst the whole people believes that he is the king’s son——
Earl Skule.
Whilst he himself believes it, Bishop—that is the heart of his fortune, that is the girdle of 175strength! [Goes to the window.] See how bravely he sits his horse! None rides as he does. His eyes are filled with laughing, dancing sunshine; he looks forth into the day as though he knew himself created to go forward, ever forward. [Turns towards the Bishop.] I am a king’s arm, mayhap a king’s brain as well; but he is the whole King.
Bishop Nicholas.
Yet no king after all, mayhap.
Earl Skule.
Mayhap no king after all.
Bishop Nicholas.
[Lays his hand on the Earl’s shoulder.] Hearken to me, Earl Skule——
Earl Skule.
[Still looking out.] There sits the Queen. Håkon speaks gently to her; she turns red and white with joy. He took her to wife because it was wise to choose the daughter of the mightiest man in the land. There was then no thought of love for her in his heart;—but it will come; Håkon has fortune with him. She will shed light over his life——[Stops, and cries out in wonder.] What is this?
Bishop Nicholas.
What?
Earl Skule.
Dagfinn the Peasant bursts violently through the crowd. Now he is giving the King some tidings.
176Bishop Nicholas.
[Looking out from behind the Earl.] Håkon seems angered—does he not? He clenches his fist——
Earl Skule.
He looks hitherward—what can it be?
[About to go.
Bishop Nicholas.
[Holding him back.] Hearken to me, Earl Skule—there may yet be one means of winning assurance as to Håkon’s right.
Earl Skule.
One means, you say?
Bishop Nicholas.
Trond the Priest, ere he died, wrote a letter telling his whole tale, and took the sacrament in witness of its truth.
Earl Skule.
And that letter—for God’s pity’s sake—where is it?
Bishop Nicholas.
You must know that——[Looks towards the door.] Hush!—here comes the King.
Earl Skule.
The letter, Bishop—the letter!
Bishop Nicholas.
The King is here.
177[Håkon enters, followed by his Guard and many guests. Immediately afterwards, Margrete appears; she seems anxious and alarmed, and is about to rush up to the King, when she is restrained by Lady Ragnhild, who, with other ladies, has followed her. Sigrid stands somewhat apart, towards the back. The Earl’s men appear uneasy, and gather in a group on the right, where Skule is standing, but some way behind him.
Håkon.
[In strong but repressed excitement.] Earl Skule, who is king in this land?
Earl Skule.
Who is king?
Håkon.
That was my question. I bear the kingly title, but who holds the kingly might?
Earl Skule.
The kingly might should dwell with him who has the kingly right.
Håkon.
So should it be; but is it so?
Earl Skule.
Do you summon me to judgment?
Håkon.
That do I; for that right I have toward every man in the land.
Earl Skule.
I fear not to answer for my dealings.
178Håkon.
Well for us all if you can. [Mounts a step of throne-daïs, and leans upon one arm of the throne.] Here stand I as your king, and ask. Know you that Jon, Earl of Orkney, has risen against me?
Earl Skule.
Yes.
Håkon.
That he denies to pay me tribute?
Earl Skule.
Yes.
Håkon.
And is it true that you, Sir Earl, have this day sent him a letter?
Earl Skule.
Who says so?
Ivar Bodde.
That do I.
Dagfinn.
Jostein Tamb dared not deny to carry it, since it bore the King’s seal.
Håkon.
You write to the King’s foes under the King’s seal, although the King knows nought of what is written?
Earl Skule.
So have I done for many a year, with your good will.
Håkon.
Ay, in the days of your regency.
179Earl Skule.
Never have you had aught but good thereby. Earl Jon wrote to me praying that I would mediate on his behalf; he offered peace, but on terms dishonourable to the King. The war in Vermeland has weighed much upon your mind; had this matter been left to you, Earl Jon had come too lightly off. I can deal better with him.
Håkon.
’Twas our will to deal with him ourself.—And what answer made you?
Earl Skule.
Read my letter.
Håkon.
Give it me!
Earl Skule.
I deemed you had it.
Dagfinn.
Nay, you know better than that. Gregorius Jonsson was too swift of foot; when we came on board, the letter was gone.
Earl Skule.
[Turns to Gregorius Jonsson.] Sir Baron, give the King the letter.
Gregorius Jonsson.
[Coming close to him, uneasily.] Hearken Earl——!
Earl Skule.
What now?
180Gregorius Jonsson.
[Softly.] Bethink you, there were sharp words in it concerning the King.
Earl Skule.
My words I shall answer for. The letter!
Gregorius Jonsson.
I have it not.
Earl Skule.
You have it not!
Gregorius Jonsson.
Dagfinn the Peasant was at our heels. I snatched the letter from Jostein Tamb, tied a stone to it——
Earl Skule.
Well?
Gregorius Jonsson.
It lies at the bottom of the fiord.
Earl Skule.
You have done ill—ill.
Håkon.
I await the letter, Sir Earl.
Earl Skule.
I cannot give it you.
Håkon.
You cannot!
Earl Skule.
[Advancing a step towards the King.] My pride 181brooks not to be put to shifts, as you and your men would call it——
Håkon.
[Controlling his rising wrath.] And so——?
Earl Skule.
In one word—I will not give it you!
Håkon.
Then you defy me!
Earl Skule.
Since so it must be—yes, I defy you.
Ivar Bodde.
[Forcibly.] Now, my lord King, I scarce think you or any man can now need further proof!
Dagfinn.
Nay, now I think we know the Earl’s mind.
Håkon.
[Coldly, to the Earl.] You will hand the Great Seal to Ivar Bodde.
Margrete.
[Rushes with clasped hands towards the daïs, where the King is standing.] Håkon, be a kind and gracious husband to me!
[Håkon makes an imperative gesture towards her; she hides her face in her veil, and goes up towards her mother again.
Earl Skule.
[To Ivar Bodde.] Here is the Great Seal.
182Ivar Bodde.
This was to be the last evening of the feast. It has ended in a heavy sorrow for the King; but sooner or later it needs must come, and methinks every true man must rejoice that it has come.
Earl Skule.
And I think every true man must feel bitter wrath to see a priest thus make mischief between us Birchlegs;—ay, Birchlegs, I say; for I am every whit as good a Birchleg as the King or any of his men. I am of the same stock, the stock of Sverre, the kingly stock—but you, Priest, you have built up a wall of distrust around the King, and shut me out from him; that has been your task this many a year.
Paul Flida.
[Enraged, to the bystanders.] Earl’s men. Shall we abide this longer?
Gregorius Jonsson.
[Steps forward.] No, we can and will no more abide it. ’Tis time to say it plainly—none of the Earl’s men can serve the King in full trust and love, so long as Ivar Bodde comes and goes in the palace, and makes bad blood between us.
Paul Flida.
Priest! I bid you look to life and limb, wheresoever I meet you—in the field, on shipboard, or in any unconsecrated house.
Many Earl’s Men.
I too! I too! You are an outlaw to us!
183Ivar Bodde.
God forbid that I should stand between the King and so many mighty chieftains.—Håkon, my gracious lord, my soul bears me witness that I have served you in all faithfulness. True, I have warned you against the Earl; but if I have ever done him wrong, I pray God forgive me. Now have I no more to do in the palace; here is your Seal; take it into your own hands; there it should have rested long ago.
Håkon.
[Who has come down from the daïs.] You shall remain!
Ivar Bodde.
I cannot. If I did, my conscience would gnaw and rend me night and day. Greater evil can no man do in these times than to hold the King and the Earl asunder.
Håkon.
Ivar Bodde, I command you to remain!
Ivar Bodde.
If the Holy King Olaf should rise from his silver shrine to bid me stay, still I needs must go. [Places the Seal in the King’s hand.] Farewell, my noble master! God bless and prosper you in all your work!
[Goes out through the crowd, to the right.
Håkon.
[Gloomily, to the Earl and his men.] There have I lost a trusty friend for your sakes; what requital can you offer to make good that loss?
184Earl Skule.
I offer myself and all my friends.
Håkon.
I almost fear ’twill not suffice. Now must I gather round me all the men I can fully trust. Dagfinn the Peasant, let a messenger set out forthwith for Halogaland; Vegard Væradal must be recalled.
Dagfinn.
[Who has been standing somewhat towards the back, in conversation with a man in travelling dress who has entered the hall, approaches and says with emotion:] Vegard cannot come, my lord.
Håkon.
How know you that?
Dagfinn.
I have even now had tidings of him.
Håkon.
What tidings?
Dagfinn.
That Vegard Væradal is slain.
Many Voices.
Slain!
Håkon.
Who slew him?
Dagfinn.
Andres Skialdarband, the Earl’s friend.
[A short pause; uneasy whispers pass among the men.
185Håkon.
Where is the messenger?
Dagfinn.
[Leading the man forward.] Here, my lord King.
Håkon.
What caused the slaying?
The Messenger.
That no man knows. The talk fell upon the Finnish tribute, and on a sudden Andres sprang up and gave him his death-wound.
Håkon.
Had there been quarrels between them before?
The Messenger.
Ever and anon. Andres would often say that a wise councillor here in the south had written to him that he should be as rock and flint toward Vegard Væradal.
Dagfinn.
Strange! Ere Vegard set forth he told me that a wise councillor had said he should be as rock and flint toward Andres Skialdarband.
Bishop Nicholas.
[Spitting.] Shame upon such councillors.
Håkon.
We will not question more closely from what root this wrong has grown. Two faithful souls have I lost this day. I could weep for Vegard, but ’tis no time for weeping; it must be life for life. Sir 186Earl, Andres Skialdarband is your sworn retainer; you offered me all service in requital for Ivar Bodde. I take you at your word, and look to you to see that this misdeed be avenged.
Earl Skule.
Of a truth, bad angels are at work between us to-day. On any other of my men, I would have suffered you to avenge the murder——
Håkon.
[Expectantly.] Well?
Earl Skule.
But not on Andres Skialdarband.
Håkon.
[Flashing out.] Will you shield the murderer?
Earl Skule.
This murderer I must shield.
Håkon.
And the reason?
Earl Skule.
That none but God in heaven may know.
Bishop Nicholas.
[Softly, to Dagfinn.] I know it.
Dagfinn.
And I suspect it.
Bishop Nicholas.
Say nought, good Dagfinn!
187Håkon.
Earl, I will believe as long as I may, that you mean not in good sooth what you have said to me——
Earl Skule.
Were it my own father Andres Skialdarband had slain, he should still go free. Ask me no more.
Håkon.
Good. Then we ourselves must do justice in the matter!
Earl Skule.
[With an expression of alarm.] There will be bloodshed on both sides, my lord King!
Håkon.
So be it; none the less shall the deed be avenged.
Earl Skule.
It shall not be!—It cannot be!
Bishop Nicholas.
Nay, there the Earl is right.
Håkon.
Say you so, my honoured lord?
Bishop Nicholas.
Andres Skialdarband has taken the Cross.
Håkon and Earl Skule.
Taken the Cross!
Bishop Nicholas.
And has already sailed from the land.
188Earl Skule.
’Tis well for all of us!
Håkon.
The day wanes; the bridal-feast must now be at an end. I thank you, Sir Earl, for all the honour that has been shown me in these days.—You are bound for Nidaros, as I think?
Earl Skule.
That is my intent.
Håkon.
And I for Viken.—If you, Margrete, choose rather to abide in Bergen, then do so.
Margrete.
Whither you go, I go, until you forbid.
Håkon.
Good; then come with me.
Sigrid.
Now is our kindred spread far abroad. [Kneels to Håkon.] Grant me a grace, my lord King.
Håkon.
Rise, Lady Sigrid; whatever you crave shall be granted.
Sigrid.
I cannot go with the Earl to Nidaros. The nunnery at Rein will soon be consecrated; write to the Archbishop—take order that I be made Abbess.
189Earl Skule.
You, my sister?
Håkon.
You will enter a nunnery!
Sigrid.
[Rising.] Since my wedding-night of blood, when the Baglers came and hewed down my bridegroom, and many hundreds with him, and fired Nidaros town at all its corners—since then, it has been as though the blood and flames had dulled and deadened my sight for the world around me. But power was given me to catch glimpses of that which other eyes see not—and one thing I see now: a time of great dread hanging over this land!
Earl Skule.
[Vehemently.] She is sick! Heed her not!
Sigrid.
A plenteous harvest is ripening for him that reaps in the darkness. Every woman in Norway will have but one task now—to kneel in church and cloister, and pray both day and night.
Håkon.
[Shaken.] Is it prophecy or soul-sickness that speaks thus?
Sigrid.
Farewell, my brother—we shall meet once more.
Earl Skule.
[Involuntarily.] When?
190Sigrid.
[Softly.] When you take the crown; in the hour of danger,—when you are fain of me in your direst need.
[Goes out to the right, with Margrete, Lady Ragnhild, and the women.
Håkon.
[After a short pause, draws his sword, and says with quiet determination.] All the Earl’s men shall take the oath of fealty.
Earl Skule.
[Vehemently.] Is this your settled purpose? [Almost imploringly.] King Håkon, do not so!
Håkon.
No Earl’s man shall leave Bergen ere he has sworn fealty to the King.
[Goes out with his Guard. All except the Earl and the Bishop follow him.
Bishop Nicholas.
He has dealt hardly with you to-day!
[Earl Skule is silent, and looks out after the King, as though struck dumb.
Bishop Nicholas.
[More loudly.] And mayhap not king-born after all.
Earl Skule.
[Turns suddenly, in strong excitement, and seizes the Bishop by the arm.] Trond the Priest’s confession—where is it?
191Bishop Nicholas.
He sent it to me from England ere he died; I know not by whom—and it never reached me.
Earl Skule.
But it must be found!
Bishop Nicholas.
I doubt not but it may.
Earl Skule.
And if you find it, you will give it into my hands?
Bishop Nicholas.
That I promise.
Earl Skule.
You swear it by your soul’s salvation?
Bishop Nicholas.
I swear it by my soul’s salvation!
Earl Skule.
Good; till that time I will work against Håkon, wherever it can be done secretly and unnoted. He must be hindered from growing mightier than I, ere the struggle begins.
Bishop Nicholas.
But should it prove that he is in truth king-born—what then?
Earl Skule.
Then I must try to pray—to pray for humbleness, 192that I may serve him with all my might, as a faithful chieftain.
Bishop Nicholas.
And if he be not the rightful king?
Earl Skule.
Then shall he give place to me! The kingly title and the kingly throne, host and guard, fleet and tribute, towns and strongholds, all shall be mine!
Bishop Nicholas.
He will betake him to Viken——
Earl Skule.
I will drive him out of Viken!
Bishop Nicholas.
He will establish himself in Nidaros.
Earl Skule.
I will storm Nidaros!
Bishop Nicholas.
He will shut himself up in Olaf’s holy church——
Earl Skule.
I will force the sanctuary——
Bishop Nicholas.
He will fly to the high altar, and cling to Olaf’s shrine——
Earl Skule.
I will drag him down from the altar, though I drag the shrine along with him——
193Bishop Nicholas.
But the crown will still be on his head, Earl Skule!
Earl Skule.
I will strike off the crown with my sword!
Bishop Nicholas.
But if it sits too tight——?
Earl Skule.
Then, in God’s name or Satan’s—I will strike off the head along with it!
[Goes out to the right.
Bishop Nicholas.
[Looks out after him, nods slowly, and says:] Ay—ay—’tis in this mood I like the Earl!
194
ACT THIRD.
A room in the Bishop’s Palace at Oslo.[33] On the right is the entrance door. In the back, a small door, standing open, leads into the Chapel, which is lighted up. A curtained door in the left wall leads into the Bishop’s sleeping room. In front, on the same side, stands a cushioned couch. Opposite, on the right, is a writing-table, with letters, documents, and a lighted lamp.
At first the room is empty; behind the curtain on the left, the singing of monks is heard. Presently Paul Flida, in travelling dress, enters from the right, stops by the door, waits, looks around, and then knocks three times with his staff upon the floor.
Sira Viliam.
[Comes out from the left, and exclaims in a hushed voice.] Paul Flida! God be praised;—then the Earl is not far off.
Paul Flida.
The ships are already at Hoved-isle; I came on ahead. And how goes it with the Bishop?
Sira Viliam.
He is even now receiving the Extreme Unction.
195Paul Flida.
Then there is great danger.
Sira Viliam.
Master Sigard of Brabant has said that he cannot outlive the night.
Paul Flida.
Then meseems he has summoned us too late.
Sira Viliam.
Nay, nay,—he has his full senses and some strength to boot; every moment he asks if the Earl comes not soon.
Paul Flida.
You still call him Earl; know you not that the King has granted him the title of Duke?
Sira Viliam.
Ay, ay, we know it; ’tis but old custom. Hist!
[He and Paul Flida cross themselves and bow their heads. From the Bishop’s door issue two acolytes with candles, then two more with censers; then priests bearing chalice, paten, and crucifix, and a church banner; behind them a file of priests and monks; acolytes with candles and censers close the procession, which passes slowly into the chapel. The door is shut behind them.
Paul Flida.
So now the old lord has made up his account with the world.
196Sira Viliam.
I can tell him that Duke Skule comes so soon as may be?
Paul Flida.
He comes straight from the wharf up here to the Palace. Farewell!
[Goes.
[Several priests, among them Peter, with some of the Bishop’s servants, come out from the left with rugs, cushions, and a large brazier.
Sira Viliam.
Why do you this?
A Priest.
[Arranging the couch.] The Bishop wills to lie out here.
Sira Viliam.
But is it prudent?
The Priest.
Master Sigard thinks we may humour him. Here he is.
Bishop Nicholas enters, supported by Master Sigard and a priest. He is in his canonicals, but without crozier and mitre.
Bishop Nicholas.
Light more candles. [He is led to a seat upon the couch, near the brazier, and is covered with rugs.] Viliam! Now have I been granted forgiveness for all my sins! They took them all away with them;—meseems I am so light now.
197Sira Viliam.
The Duke sends you greeting, my lord; he has already passed Hoved-isle!
Bishop Nicholas.
’Tis well, very well. Belike the King, too, will soon be here. I have been a sinful hound in my day, Viliam; I have grievously trespassed against the King. The priests in there averred that all my sins should be forgiven me;—well well, it may be so; but ’tis easy for them to promise; ’tis not against them that I have trespassed. No no; it is safest to have it from the King’s own mouth. [Exclaims impatiently.] Light, I say! ’tis so dark in here.
Sira Viliam.
The candles are lighted——
Master Sigard.
[Stops him by a sign, and approaches the Bishop.] How goes it with you, my lord?
Bishop Nicholas.
So-so—so-so; my hands and feet are cold.
Master Sigard.
[Half aloud, as he moves the brazier nearer.] Ha—’tis the beginning of the end.
Bishop Nicholas.
[Apprehensively, to Viliam.] I have commanded that eight monks shall chant and pray for me in 198the chapel to-night. Have an eye to them; there are idle fellows among them.
[Sira Viliam points silently towards the chapel, whence singing is heard, which continues during what follows.
Bishop Nicholas.
So much still undone, and to go and leave it all! So much undone, Viliam!
Sira Viliam.
My lord, think of heavenly things!
Bishop Nicholas.
I have time before me;—till well on in the morning, Master Sigard thinks——
Sira Viliam.
My lord, my lord!
Bishop Nicholas.
Give me mitre and crozier!—’Tis very well for you to say that I should think——[A priest brings them.] So, set the cap there, ’tis too heavy for me; give me the crozier in my hand; there, now am I in my armour. A bishop!——The Evil One dare not grapple with me now!
Sira Viliam.
Desire you aught beside?
Bishop Nicholas.
No. Stay—tell me:—Peter, Andres Skialdarband’s son,—all speak well of him——
199Sira Viliam.
In truth, his is a blameless soul.
Bishop Nicholas.
Peter, you shall watch beside me until the King or the Duke shall come. Leave us, meanwhile, ye others, but be at hand.
[All except Peter go out on the right.
Bishop Nicholas.
[After a short pause.] Peter!
Peter.
[Approaches.] My lord?
Bishop Nicholas.
Hast ever seen old men die?
Peter.
No.
Bishop Nicholas.
They are all afeard; that I dare swear. There on the table lies a large letter with seals to it; give it to me. [Peter brings the letter.] ’Tis to your mother.
Peter.
To my mother?
Bishop Nicholas.
You must get you northward with it to Halogaland. I have written to her touching a great and weighty matter; tidings have come from your father.
Peter.
He is fighting as a soldier of God in the Holy 200Land. Should he fall there, he falls on hallowed ground; for there every foot’s-breadth of earth is sacred. I commend him to God in all my prayers.
Bishop Nicholas.
Is Andres Skialdarband dear to you?
Peter.
He is an honourable man; but there lives another man whose greatness my mother, as it were, fostered and nourished me withal.
Bishop Nicholas.
[Hurriedly and eagerly.] Is that Duke Skule?
Peter.
Ay, the Duke—Skule Bårdsson. My mother knew him in younger days. The Duke must sure be the greatest man in the land!
Bishop Nicholas.
There is the letter; get you northward with it forthwith!—Are they not singing in there?
Peter.
They are, my lord!
Bishop Nicholas.
Eight lusty fellows with throats like trumpets, they must surely help somewhat, methinks.
Peter.
My lord, my lord! Why not pray yourself!
Bishop Nicholas.
I have too much still undone, Peter. Life is 201all too short;—besides, the King will surely forgive me when he comes——[Gives a start in pain.
Peter.
You are suffering?
Bishop Nicholas.
I suffer not; but there is a ringing in mine ears, a twinkling and flickering before mine eyes——
Peter.
’Tis the heavenly bells ringing you home, and the twinkling of the altar-lights God’s angels have lit for you.
Bishop Nicholas.
Ay, sure ’tis so;—there is no danger if only they lag not with their prayers in there——Farewell; set forth at once with the letter.
Peter.
Shall I not first——?
Bishop Nicholas.
Nay, go; I fear not to be alone.
Peter.
Well met again, then, what time the heavenly bells shall sound for me too.
[Goes out on the right.
Bishop Nicholas.
The heavenly bells,—ay, ’tis easy talking when you still have two stout legs to stand upon.—So much undone! But much will live after me, notwithstanding. I promised the Duke by my soul’s salvation to give him Trond the Priest’s 202confession if it came into my hand;—’tis well I have not got it. Had he certainty, he would conquer or fall; and then one of the twain would be the mightiest man that ever lived in Norway. No no,—what I could not reach none other shall reach. Uncertainty serves best; so long as the Duke is burdened with that, they two will waste each other’s strength, wheresoever they may; towns will be burnt, dales will be harried,—neither will gain by the other’s loss—[Terrified.] Mercy, pity! It is I who bear the guilt—I, who set it all agoing! [Calming himself.] Well, well, well! but now the King is coming—’tis he that suffers most—he will forgive me—prayers and masses shall be said; there is no danger;—I am a bishop, and I have never slain any man with mine own hand.—’Tis well that Trond the Priest’s confession came not; the saints are with me, they will not tempt me to break my promise.—Who knocks at the door? It must be the Duke! [Rubs his hands with glee.] He will implore me for proofs as to the kingship,—and I have no proofs to give him!
Inga of Varteig enters; she is dressed in
black, with a cloak and hood.
Bishop Nicholas.
[Starts.] Who is that?
Inga.
A woman from Varteig in Borgasyssel, my honoured lord.
Bishop Nicholas.
The King’s mother!
203Inga.
So was I called once.
Bishop Nicholas.
Go, go! ’Twas not I counselled Håkon to send you away.
Inga.
What the King does is well done; ’tis not therefore I come.
Bishop Nicholas.
Wherefore then?
Inga.
Gunnulf, my brother, is come home from England——
Bishop Nicholas.
From England——!
Inga.
He has been away these many years, as you know, and has roamed far and wide; now has he brought home a letter——
Bishop Nicholas.
[Breathlessly.] A letter——?
Inga.
From Trond the Priest. ’Tis for you, my lord.
[Hands it to him.
Bishop Nicholas.
Ah, truly;—and you bring it?
Inga.
It was Trond’s wish. I owe him great thanks since the time he fostered Håkon. It was told 204me that you were sick; therefore I set forth at once; I have come hither on foot——
Bishop Nicholas.
There was no such haste, Inga!
Dagfinn the Peasant enters from the right.
Dagfinn.
God’s peace, my honoured lord!
Bishop Nicholas.
Comes the King?
Dagfinn.
He is now riding down the Ryen hills, with the Queen and the King-child and a great following.
Inga.
[Rushes up to Dagfinn.] The King,—the King! Comes he hither?
Dagfinn.
Inga! You here, much-suffering woman!
Inga.
She is not much-suffering who has so great a son.
Dagfinn.
Now will his hard heart be melted.
Inga.
Not a word to the King of me. Yet, oh, I must see him!—Tell me,—comes he hither?
Dagfinn.
Ay, presently.
205Inga.
And it is dark evening. The King will be lighted on his way with torches?
Dagfinn.
Yes.
Inga.
Then will I hide me in a gateway as he goes by;—and then home to Varteig. But first will I into Hallvard’s church; the lights are burning there to-night; there will I call down blessings on the King, on my fair son.
[Goes out to the right.
Dagfinn.
I have fulfilled mine errand; I go to meet the King.
Bishop Nicholas.
Bear him most loving greeting, good Dagfinn!
Dagfinn.
[As he goes out to the right.] I would not be Bishop Nicholas to-morrow.
Bishop Nicholas.
Trond the Priest’s confession——! So it has come after all—here I hold it in my hand. [Muses with a fixed gaze.] A man should never promise aught by his soul’s salvation, when he is as old as I. Had I years before me, I could always wriggle free from such a promise; but this evening, this last evening—no, that were imprudent.—But can I keep it? Is it not to endanger all that I have worked for, my whole life through? [Whispering.] Oh, could I but cheat the Evil 206One, only this one more time! [Listens.] What was that? [Calls.] Viliam, Viliam!
Sira Viliam enters from the right.
Bishop Nicholas.
What is it that whistles and howls so grimly?
Sira Viliam.
’Tis the storm; it grows fiercer.
Bishop Nicholas.
The storm grows fiercer! Ay truly, I will keep my promise! The storm, say you——? Are they singing in there?
Sira Viliam.
Yes, my lord.
Bishop Nicholas.
Bid them bestir themselves, and chiefly brother Aslak; he always makes such scant prayers; he shirks whenever he can; he skips, the hound! [Strikes the floor with his crozier.] Go in and say to him ’tis the last night I have left; he shall bestir himself, else will I haunt him from the dead!
Sira Viliam.
My lord, shall I not fetch Master Sigard?
Bishop Nicholas.
Go in, I say! [Viliam goes into the chapel.] It must doubtless be heaven’s will that I should reconcile the King and the Duke, since it sends me Trond’s letter now. This is a hard thing, Nicholas; to tear down at a single wrench what 207you have spent your life in building up. But there is no other way; I must e’en do the will of heaven this time.—If I could only read what is written in the letter! But I cannot see a word! Mists drive before my eyes; they sparkle and flicker; and I dare let none other read it for me! To make such a promise——! Is human cunning, then, so poor a thing that it cannot govern the outcome of its contrivances in the second and third degree? I spoke so long and so earnestly to Vegard Væradal about making the King send Inga from him, that at length it came to pass. That was wise in the first degree; but had I not counselled thus, then Inga had not now been at Varteig, the letter had not come into my hands in time, and I had not had any promise to keep—therefore ’twas unwise in the second degree. Had I yet time before me——! but only the space of one night, and scarce even that. I must, I will live longer! [Knocks with his crozier; a priest enters from the right.] Bid Master Sigard come! [The priest goes; the Bishop crushes the letter in his hands.] Here, under this thin seal, lies Norway’s saga for a hundred years! It lies and dreams, like the birdling in the egg! Oh, that I had more souls than one—or else none! [Presses the letter wildly to his breast.] Oh, were not the end so close upon me,—and judgment and doom I would hatch you out into a hawk that should cast the dreadful shadow of his wings overall the land, and strike his sharp talons into every heart! [With a sudden shudder.] But the last hour is at hand! [Shrieking.] No, no! You shall become a swan, a white swan! [Throws the letter far from, him, on to the floor, and calls:] Master Sigard, Master Sigard!
208Master Sigard.
[From the right.] How goes it, honoured lord!
Bishop Nicholas.
Master Sigard—sell me three days’ life!
Master Sigard.
I have told you——
Bishop Nicholas.
Yes, yes; but that was in jest; ’twas a little revenge on me. I have been a tedious master to you; therefore you thought to scare me. Fie, that was evil,—nay, nay—’twas no more than I deserved! But, now be good and kind! I will pay you well;—three days’ life, Master Sigard, only three days’ life!
Master Sigard.
Though I myself were to die in the same hour as you, yet could I not add three days to your span.
Bishop Nicholas.
One day, then, only one day! Let it be light, let the sun shine when my soul sets forth! Listen, Sigard! [Beckons him over, and drags him down upon the couch.] I have given well-nigh all my gold and silver to the Church, to have high masses sung for me. I will take it back again; you shall have it all! How now, Sigard, shall we two fool them in there? He-he-he! You will be rich, Sigard, and can depart the country; I shall have time to cast about me a little, and make shift with fewer prayers. Come, Sigard, shall we——! [Sigard feels his pulse; the Bishop 209exclaims anxiously:] How now, why answer you not?
Master Sigard.
[Rising.] I have no time, my lord. I must prepare you a draught that may ease you somewhat at the last.
Bishop Nicholas.
Nay, wait with that! Wait,—and answer me!
Master Sigard.
I have no time; the draught must be ready within an hour.
[Goes out to the right.
Bishop Nicholas.
Within an hour! [Knocks wildly.] Viliam! Viliam!
[Sira Viliam comes out from the chapel.
Bishop Nicholas.
Call more to help in there! The eight are not enough!
Sira Viliam.
My lord——?
Bishop Nicholas.
More to help, I say! Brother Kolbein has lain sick these five weeks,—he cannot have sinned much in that time——
Sira Viliam.
He was at shrift yesterday.
Bishop Nicholas.
[Eagerly.] Ay, he must be good; call him! 210[Viliam goes into the chapel again.] Within an hour! [Dries the sweat off his brow.] Pah—how hot it is here!—The miserable hound—what boots all his learning, when he cannot add an hour to my life? There sits he in his closet day by day, piecing together his cunning wheels and weights and levers; he thinks to fashion a machine that shall go and go and never stop—perpetuum mobile he calls it. Why not rather turn his art and his skill to making man such a perpetuum mobile? [Stops and thinks; his eyes light up.] Perpetuum mobile,—I am not strong in Latin—but it means somewhat that has power to work eternally, through all the ages. If I myself, now, could but——? That were a deed to end my life withal! That were to do my greatest deed in my latest hour! To set wheel and weight and lever at work in the King’s soul and the Duke’s; to set them a-going so that no power on earth can stop them; if I can but do that, then shall I live indeed, live in my work—and, when I think of it, mayhap ’tis that which is called immortality.—Comfortable, soothing thoughts, how ye do the old man good! [Draws a deep breath, and stretches himself comfortably upon the couch.] Diabolus has pressed me hard to-night. That comes of lying idle; olium est pulvis—pulveris—pooh, no matter for the Latin——Diabolus shall no longer have power over me; I will be busy to the last; I will——; how they bellow in yonder——[Knocks; Viliam comes out.] Tell them to hold their peace; they disturb me. The King and the Duke will soon be here; I have weighty matters to ponder.
Sira Viliam.
My lord, shall I then——?
211Bishop Nicholas.
Bid them hold awhile, that I may think in peace. Look you, take up yonder letter that lies upon the floor.—Good. Reach me the papers here——
Sira Viliam.
[Goes to the writing-table.] Which, my lord?
Bishop Nicholas.
It matters not——; the sealed ones; those that lie uppermost—So; go now in and bid them be silent. [Viliam goes.] To die, and yet rule in Norway! To die, and yet so contrive things that no man may come to raise his head above the rest. A thousand ways may lead towards that goal; yet can there be but one that will reach it;—and now to find that one—to find it and follow it——Ha! The way lies so close, so close at hand! Ay, so it must be. I will keep my promise; the Duke shall have the letter in his hands;—but the King—he shall have the thorn of doubt in his heart. Håkon is upright, as they call it; many things will go to wreck in his soul along with the faith in himself and in his right. Both of them shall doubt and believe by turns, still swaying to and fro, and finding no firm ground beneath their feet—perpetuum mobile!—But will Håkon believe what I say? Ay, that will he; am I not a dying man?—And to prepare the way I will feed him up with truths.—My strength fails, but fresh life fills my soul;—I no longer lie on a sick-bed, I sit in my workroom; I will work the last night through, work—till the light goes out——
Duke Skule.
[Enters from the right and advances towards the 212Bishop.] Peace and greeting, my honoured lord! I hear it goes ill with you.
Bishop Nicholas.
I am a corpse in the bud, good Duke; this night shall I break into bloom; to-morrow you may scent my perfume.
Duke Skule.
Already to-night, say you?
Bishop Nicholas.
Master Sigard says: within an hour.
Duke Skule.
And Trond the Priest’s letter——?
Bishop Nicholas.
Think you still upon that?
Duke Skule.
’Tis never out of my thoughts.
Bishop Nicholas.
The King has made you Duke; before you, no man in Norway has borne that title.
Duke Skule.
’Tis not enough. If Håkon be not the rightful king, then must I have all!
Bishop Nicholas.
Ha, ’tis cold in here; the blood runs icy through my limbs.
213Duke Skule.
Trond the Priest’s letter, my lord! For Almighty God’s sake,—have you it?
Bishop Nicholas.
At least, I know where it may be found.
Duke Skule.
Tell me then, tell me!
Bishop Nicholas.
Wait——
Duke Skule.
Nay, nay—lose not your time; I see it draws to an end;—and ’tis said the King comes hither.
Bishop Nicholas.
Ay, the King comes; thereby you may best see that I am mindful of your cause, even now.
Duke Skule.
What is your purpose?
Bishop Nicholas.
Mind you, at the King’s bridal—you said that Håkon’s strength lay in his steadfast faith in himself?
Duke Skule.
Well?
Bishop Nicholas.
If I confess, and raise a doubt in his mind, then his faith will fall, and his strength with it.
Duke Skule.
My lord, this is sinful, sinful, if he be the rightful king.
214Bishop Nicholas.
’Twill be in your power to restore his faith. Ere I depart hence, I will tell you where Trond the Priest’s letter may be found.
Sira Viliam.
[From the right.] The King is now coming up the street, with torch-bearers and attendants.
Bishop Nicholas.
He shall be welcome. [Viliam goes.] Duke, I beg of you one last service: do you carry on my feuds against all mine enemies. [Takes out a letter.] Here I have written them down. Those whose names stand first I would fain have hanged, if it could be so ordered.
Duke Skule.
Think not upon vengeance now; you have but little time left——
Bishop Nicholas.
Not on vengeance, but on punishment. Promise me to wield the sword of punishment over all mine enemies when I am gone. They are your foemen no less than mine; when you are King you must chastise them; do you promise me that?
Duke Skule.
I promise and swear it; but Trond’s letter——!
Bishop Nicholas.
You shall learn where it is;—but see—the King comes; hide the list of our foemen!
[The Duke hides the paper; at the same moment Håkon enters from the right.
215Bishop Nicholas.
Well met at the grave-feast, my lord King.
Håkon.
You have ever withstood me stubbornly; but that shall be forgiven and forgotten now; death wipes out even the heaviest reckoning.
Bishop Nicholas.
That lightened my soul! Oh how marvellous is the King’s clemency! My lord, what you have done for an old sinner this night shall be tenfold——
Håkon.
No more of that; but I must tell you that I greatly marvel you should summon me hither to obtain my forgiveness, and yet prepare for me such a meeting as this.
Bishop Nicholas.
Meeting, my lord?
Duke Skule.
’Tis of me the King speaks. Will you, my lord Bishop, assure King Håkon, by my faith and honour, that I knew nought of his coming, ere I landed at Oslo wharf?
Bishop Nicholas.
Alas, alas! The blame is all mine! I have been sickly and bedridden all the last year; I have learnt little or nought of the affairs of the kingdom; I thought all was now well between the princely kinsmen!
216Håkon.
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——
217Håkon.
Talk not so wildly, my lord!
Duke Skule.
You shorten the precious hour still left to you!
Håkon.
Your eyes are already dim.
Bishop Nicholas.
Ay, my sight is dim; I scarce can see you where you stand; but before my inward eye, my life is moving in a blaze of light. There I see sights——; hear and learn, O King!—My race was the mightiest in the land; many great chieftains had sprung from it; I longed to be the greatest of them all. I was yet but a boy when I began to thirst after great deeds; meseemed I could by no means wait till I were grown. Kings arose who had less right than I,—Magnus Erlingsson, Sverre the Priest——; I also would be king; but I must needs be a chieftain first. Then came the battle at Ilevoldene; ’twas the first time I went out to war. The sun went up, and glittering lightnings flashed from a thousand burnished blades. Magnus and all his men advanced as to a game; I alone felt a tightness at my heart. Fiercely our host swept forward; but I could not follow—I was afraid! All Magnus’s other chieftains fought manfully, and many fell in the fight; but I fled up over the mountain, and ran and ran, and stayed not until I came down to the fiord again, far away. Many a man had to wash his bloody clothes in Trondheim-fiord that night;—I had to wash mine 218too, but not from blood. Ay, King, I was afraid;—born to be a chieftain—and afraid! It fell upon me as a thunderbolt; from that hour I hated all men. I prayed secretly in the churches, I wept and knelt before the altars, I gave rich gifts, made sacred promises; I tried and tried in battle after battle, at Saltösund, at Jonsvoldene that summer the Baglers lay in Bergen,—but ever in vain. Sverre it was who first noted it; he proclaimed it loudly and with mockery, and from that day forth, not a man in the host but laughed when Nicholas Arnesson was seen in war-weed. A coward, a coward—and yet was I filled with longing to be a chief, to be a king; nay, I felt I was born to be King. I could have furthered God’s kingdom upon earth; but ’twas the saints themselves that barred the way for me.