Complete Works of Henrik Ibsen (75 page)

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 One, only this one more time!
[Listens.]
What was that?
[Calls.]
Yiliam, Yiliam! 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 crazier.]
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 you 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 over all 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!

MASTER 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 exclaims anxiously:]
How now, why answer you not?

MASTER SIGARD.
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!
[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
perpetnum 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;
otium 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 — ?

BISHOP 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 Bishop.]
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.

DUKE 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 sad 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.

BISHOP 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.

BISHOP 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!