Complete Works of Henrik Ibsen (82 page)

MARGRETE.
Part from you! How can you think such a thought? Give me your hand — !

HÅKON.
Touch it — It has even now been lifted in oath —

MARGRETE.
In oath?

HÅKON.
An oath that set its sacred seal upon a death-warrant. Margrete.
[With a shriek.]
My father! Oh, my father! [
Totters; two women rush forward to support her.

HÅKON.
Yes, Margrete — his King has doomed your father to death.

MARGRETE.
Then well I know he has committed a greater crime than when he took the kingly title.

HÅKON.
That has he; — and now, if you feel that we must part, so let it be.

MARGRETE.
[Coming close to him, firmly.]
We can never part! I am your wife, nought else in the world but your wife!

HÅKON.
Are you strong enough? Did you hear and understand all? I have doomed your father.

MARGRETE.
I heard and understood. You have doomed my father.

HÅKON.
And you ask not to know what was his crime?

MARGRETE.
‘Tis enough that you know it.

HÅKON.
But it was to death that I doomed him!

MARGRETE.
[Kneels before the King, and kisses his hand.]
My husband and noble lord, your doom is just!

ACT FIFT
H

A room in the palace at Nidaros. The entrance door is on the right; in front, on the same side, a window; to the left a smaller door. It is after night-fall.
PAUL FLIDA, BÅRD BRATTE,
and several of
KING SKULE’S
principal followers are standing at the window and looking upward.

A MAN-AT-ARMS.
How red it glows!

A SECOND.
It stretches over half the sky, like a flaming sword.

BÅRD BRATTE.
Holy King Olaf, what bodes such a sign of dread?

AN OLD VARBÆLG.
Assuredly it bodes a great chief’s death.

PAUL FLIDA.
Håkon’s death, my good Varbælgs. He is lying out in the fiord with his fleet; we may look for him in the town to-night. This time, ‘tis our turn to conquer!

BÅRD BRATTE.
Trust not to that; there is little heart in the host now.

THE OLD VARBÆLG.
And reason enough, in sooth; ever since the flight from Oslo has King Skule shut himself in, and will neither see nor speak with his men.

THE FIRST MAN-AT-ARMS.
There are those in the town who know not whether to believe him alive or dead.

PAUL FLIDA.
The King must out, however sick he may be. Speak to him, Bård Bratte — the safety of all is at stake.

BÅRD BRATTE.
It avails not; I have spoken to him already.

PAUL FLIDA.
Then must I try what I can do.
[Goes to the door on the left, and knocks.]
My lord King, you must take the helm in your own hands; things can no longer go on in this fashion.

KING SKULE.
[Within.]
I am sick, Paul Flida.

PAUL FLIDA.
What else can you look for? You have eaten nought these two days; you must nourish and strengthen you —

KING SKULE.

I AM SICK.

PAUL FLIDA.
By the Almighty, ‘tis no time for sickness. King Håkon lies out in the fiord, and may at any time be upon us here in Nidaros.

KING SKULE.
Strike him down for me! Slay him and the Kingchild.

PAUL FLIDA.
You must be with us, my lord!

KING SKULE.
No, no, no, — you are surest of fortune and victory when I am not there.

PETER.
[Enters from the right; he is in armour.]
The townsfolk are ill at ease; they flock together in great masses before the palace.

BÅRD BRATTE.
Unless the King speak to them, they will desert him in the hour of need.

PETER.
Then must he speak to them.
[At the door on the left.]
Father! The Tronders, your trustiest subjects, will fall away from you if you give them not courage.

KING SKULE.
What said the skald?

PETER.
The skald?

KING SKULE.
The skald who died for my sake at Oslo. A man cannot give what he himself does not possess, he said.

PETER.
Then neither can you give away the kingdom; for it is mine after you!

KING SKULE.
Now I will come!

PAUL FLIDA.
God be praised.

KING SKULE.
[Comes forward in the doorway; he is pale and haggard; his hair has grown very grey.]
You shall not look at me! I will not have you look at me now that I am sick!
[Goes up to Peter.]
Take from you the kingdom, you say? Great God in heaven, what was I about to do!

PETER.
Oh, forgive me; — I know that what you do is ever the right.

KING SKULE.
No, no, not hitherto; but now I will be strong and sound — I will act!

LOUD SHOUTS.
[Without, on the right.]
King Skule! King Skule!

KING SKULE.
What is that?

BÅRD BRATTE.
[At the window.]
The townsmen are flocking together; the whole courtyard is full of people; — you must speak to them.

KING SKULE.
Do I look like a king? Can I speak now?

PETER.
You must, my noble father!

KING SKULE.
Well, be it so.
[Goes to the window and draws the curtain aside, but lets it go quickly and starts back in terror.]
There hangs the flaming sword over me again!

PAUL FLIDA.
It bodes that the sword of victory is drawn for you.

KING SKULE.
Ah, were it but so!
[Goes to the window and speaks Tronders, what would you? Here stands your King. A Townsman. [Without.]
Leave the town! The Birchlegs will burn and slay if they find you here.

KING SKULE.
We must all hold together. I have been a gracious King to you; I have craved but small war-tax —

A MAN’S VOICE.
[Down in the crowd.]
What call you all the blood, then, that flowed at Lâka and Oslo?

A WOMAN.
Give me my betrothed again!

A BOY.
Give me my father and my brother!

ANOTHER WOMAN.
Give me my three sons, King Skule!

A MAN.
He is no King; homage has not been done him on St. Olaf’s shrine!

MANY VOICES.
No, no — no homage has been done him on St. Olaf’s shrine! He is no King!

KING SKULE.
[Shrinks behind the curtain.]
No homage — ! No
king!

PAUL FLIDA.
‘Twas a dire mischance that the shrine was not brought forth when you were chosen.

BÅRD BRATTE.
Should the townsfolk desert us, we cannot hold Nidaros if the Birchlegs come.

KING SKULE.
And they will desert us, so long as homage has not been done to me on the Saint’s shrine.

PETER.
Then let the shrine be brought forth, and take our homage now!

PAUL FLIDA.
[Shaking his head.]
How should that be possible?

PETER.
Is aught impossible, where he is concerned? Sound the call for the folkmote, and bring forth the shrine!

SEVERAL OF THE MEN.
[Shrinking back.]
Sacrilege!

PETER.
No sacrilege! — Come, come! The monks are well disposed towards King Skule; they will agree —

PAUL FLIDA.
That they will not; they dare not, for the Archbishop.

PETER.
Are you King’s men, and will not lend your aid when so great a cause is at stake! Good, there are others below of better will. My father and King, the monks shall give way; I will pray, I will beseech; sound the summons for the folkmote; you shall bear your kingship rightfully. —
[Rushes out to the right.

KING SKULE.
[Beaming with joy.]
Saw you him! Saw you my gallant son! How his eyes shone! Yes, we will all fight and conquer. How strong are the Birchlegs?

PAUL FLIDA.
Not stronger than that we may master them, if but the townsfolk hold to us!

KING SKULE.
They shall hold to us. We must all be at one now and put an end to this time of dread. See you not that ‘tis Heaven’s command that we should end it? Heaven is wroth with all Norway for the deeds that have so long been doing. A flaming sword glows night by night in the sky; women swoon and bear children in the churches; a frenzy creeps abroad among priests and monks, causing them to run through the streets and proclaim that the last day is come. Ay, by the Almighty, this shall be ended at one stroke!

PAUL FLIDA.
What are your commands?

KING SKULE.
All the bridges shall be broken down!

PAUL FLIDA.
Go, and let all the bridges be broken.
[One of the Men-at-arms goes out to the right.

KING SKULE.
Gather all our men upon the foreshore; not one Birchleg shall set foot in Nidaros.

PAUL FLIDA.
Well spoken, King.

KING SKULE.
When the shrine is borne forth, let the horn sound to the folkmote. The host and the townsfolk shall be called together.

PAUL FLIDA.
[To one of the men.]
Go forth and bid the horn blower wind his horn in all the streets. —
[The man goes.

KING SKULE.
[Addresses the people from the window.]
Hold fast to me, all my sorrowing people. There shall come peace and light over the land once more, as in Håkon’s first glad days, when the fields yielded two harvests every summer. Hold fast to me; believe in me and trust to me; ‘tis that I need so unspeakably. I will watch over you and fight for you; I will bleed and die for you, if need be; but fail me not, and doubt not — !
[Loud cries, as though of terror, are heard among the people.]
What is that? A Wild Voice. Atone! Atone!

BÅRD BRATTE.
[Looks out.]
’Tis a priest possessed of the devil!

PAUL FLIDA.
He is tearing his cowl to shreds and scourging himself with a whip.

THE VOICE.
Atone, atone! The last day is come.

MANY VOICES.
Flee, flee! Woe upon Nidaros! A deed of sin!

KING SKULE.
What has befallen?

BÅRD BRATTE.
All flee, all shrink away as though a wild beast were in their midst.

KING SKULE.
Yes, all flee.
[With a cry of joy.]
Ha! it matters not. We are saved! See, see — King Olaf’s shrine stands in the middle of the courtyard.

PAUL FLIDA.
King Olaf’s shrine!

BÅRD BRATTE.
Ay, by Heaven — there it stands!

KING SKULE.
The monks are true to me; so good a deed have they never done before!

PAUL FLIDA.
Hark! the call to the folkmote!

KING SKULE.
Now shall lawful homage be done to me.

PETER.
[Enters from the right.]
Take on you the kingly mantle; now stands the shrine out yonder.

KING SKULE.
Then you have saved the kingdom for me and for yourself; and tenfold will we thank the pious monks for yielding.

PETER.
The monks, father — you have nought to thank them for.

KING SKULE.
‘Twas not they that helped you?

PETER.
They laid the ban of the Church on whoever should dare to touch the holy thing.

KING SKULE.
The Archbishop then! At last he gives way.

PETER.
The Archbishop hurled forth direr curses than the monks.

KING SKULE.
Ah, then I see that I still have trusty men. You here, who should have been the first to ser\ e me, stood terrified and shrank back — but down in the crowd have I friends who for my sake fear not to take so great a sin upon their souls.

PETER.
You have not one trusty man who dared to take the sin upon him.

KING SKULE.
Almighty God! has then a miracle come to pass? Who bore out the holy thing?

PETER.
I, my father!

KING SKULE.
[With a shriek.]
You!

THE MEN.
[Shrink back appalled.]
Church-robber!
[Paul Flida, Bård Bratte,
and one or two others go out.

PETER.
The deed had to be done. No man’s faith is sure ere homage be lawfully done to you. I begged, I besought the monks; it availed not. Then I broke open the church door; none dared to follow me. I sprang up to the high altar, gripped the handle, and pressed hard with my knees; ‘twas as though an unseen power gave me more than human strength. The shrine came loose, I dragged it after me down the nave, while the ban moaned like a storm high up under the vaultings. I dragged it out of the church; all fled and shrank from me. When I came to the middle of the courtyard the handle broke; here it is! — [
Holds it aloft.

KING SKULE.
[Quietly, appalled.]
Church-robber.

PETER.
For your sake; for the sake of your great king’s thought! You will wipe out the sin; all that is evil you will wipe away. Light and peace will follow you; a glorious day will dawn over the land what matter, then, if there went a storm-night before it?