Complete Works of Henrik Ibsen (85 page)

DAGFINN.
In God’s name, then!
[He opens the gate; the Birchlegs respectfully uncover their heads.
King Skule
enters the courtyard.

MARGRETE.
[Throwing herself on his neck.]
My father! My dear, unhappy father!

LADY RAGNHILD.
[Interposing wildly between him and the Birchlegs.]
Ye who feign reverence for him, ye will betray him, like Judas. Dare not to come near him! Ye shall not lay a finger on him while I live!

DAGFINN.
Here he is safe, for he is on holy ground.

MARGRETE.
And not one of all your men had the heart to follow you this night!

KING SKULE.
Both monks and spearmen brought me on the way; but they slipped from me one by one, for they knew there were Birchlegs at Elgesæter. Paul Flida was the last to leave me; he came with me to the convent gate; there he gave me his last hand-grip, in memory of the time when there were Varbælgs in Norway.

DAGFINN.
[To the Birchlegs.]
Get you in, chieftains, and set you as guards about the King-child; I must to Nidaros to acquaint the King that Skule Bårdsson is at Elgesæter; in so weighty a matter ‘tis for him to act.

MARGRETE.
Oh, Dagfinn, Dagfinn, have you the heart for that?

DAGFINN.
Else should I ill serve King and land.
[To the men.]
Lock the gates after me, watch over the child, and open to none until the King be come.
[Softly to Skule.]
Farewell, Skule Bårdsson — and God grant you a blessed end.
[Goes out by the gate; the Birchlegs close it after him, and go into the chapel.

LADY RAGNHILD.
Ay let Håkon come; I will not loose you; I will hold you straitly and tenderly in my arms, as I never held you before.

MARGRETE.
Oh, how pale you are — and aged; you are cold.

KING SKULE.
I am not cold — but I am weary, weary.

MARGRETE.
Come in then, and rest you —

KING SKULE.
Yes, yes; ‘twill soon be time to rest.

SIGRID.
[From the chapel.]
You come at last, my brother! King Skule. Sigrid! you here?

SIGRID.
I promised that we should meet when you were fain of me in your sorest need.

KING SKULE.
Where is your child, Margrete?

MARGRETE.
He sleeps, in the sacristy.

KING SKULE.
Then is our whole house gathered at Elgesæter to-night. Sigrid. Ay, gathered after straying long and far.

KING SKULE.
Håkon Håkonsson alone is wanting.

MARGRETE AND LADY RAGNHILD.
[Cling about him, in an outburst of sorrow.]
My father! — My husband!

KING SKULE.
[Looking at them, much moved.]
Have you loved me so deeply, you two? I sought after happiness abroad, and heeded not the home wherein I might have found it. I pursued after love through sin and guilt, little dreaming that ‘twas mine already, in right of God’s law and man’s. — And you, Ragnhild, my wife, you, against whom I have sinned so deeply, you take me to your warm, soft heart in the hour of my sorest need; you can tremble and be afraid for the life of the man who has never cast a ray of sunshine upon your path.

LADY RAGNHILD.
Have you sinned? Oh, Skule, speak not so; think you I should ever dare accuse you! From the first I was too mean a mate for you, my noble husband; there can rest no guilt on any deed of yours.

KING SKULE.
Have you believed in me so surely, Ragnhild?

LADY RAGNHILD.
From the first day I saw you.

KING SKULE.
[With animation.]
When Håkon comes, I will beg grace of him! You gentle, loving women, — oh, but it is fair to live!

SIGRID.
[With an expression of terror.]
Skule, my brother! Woe to you if you stray from the path this night.
[A loud noise without; immediately afterwards, a knocking at the gate.

MARGRETE.
Hark, hark! Who comes in such haste?

LADY RAGNHILD.
Who knocks at the gate?

VOICES.
[Without.]
Townsfolk from Nidaros! Open! We know that Skule Bårdsson is within!

KING SKULE.
Ay, he is within; what would ye with him?

NOISY VOICES.
[Without.]
Come out, come out! Death to the evil man!

MARGRETE.
You townsfolk dare to threaten that? A Single Voice. King Håkon doomed him at Oslo.

ANOTHER.
‘Tis every man’s duty to slay him!

MARGRETE.
I am the Queen; I command you to depart!

A VOICE.
‘Tis Skule Bårdsson’s daughter, and not the Queen, that speaks thus.

ANOTHER.
You have no power over life and death; the King has doomed him!

LADY RAGNHILD.
Into the church, Skule! For God’s mercy’s sake, let not the bloodthirsty caitiffs approach you!

KING SKULE.
Ay, into the church; I would not fall at the hands of such as these. My wife, my daughter; meseems I have found peace and light; oh, I cannot lose them again so soon! —
[Moves towards the chapel.

PETER.
[Without, on the right.]
My father, my king! Now will you soon have the victory!

KING SKULE.
[With a shriek.]
He! He!
[Sinks down upon the church steps.

LADY RAGNHILD.
Who is it?

A TOWNSMAN.
[Without]
See, see! the church-robber climbs over the convent roof!

OTHERS.
Stone him! Stone him!

PETER.
[Appears on a roof to the right, and jumps down into the yard.]
Well met again, my father!

KING SKULE.
[Looks at him aghast.]
You — I had forgotten you — ! Whence come you?

PETER.
[Wildly.]
Where is the King-child?

MARGRETE.
The King-child!

KING SKULE.
[Starts up.]
Whence come you, I ask?

PETER.
From Hladehammer; I have given Bård Bratte and the Varbaelgs to know that the King-child lies at Elgesæter to-night.

MARGRETE.
O — God!

KING SKULE.
You have done that! And now — ?

PETER.
He is gathering together his men, and they are hasting up to the convent. — Where is the King-child, woman?

MARGRETE.
 
—
[Who has placed herself before the church door.]
He sleeps in the sacristy!

PETER.
‘Twere the same if he slept on the altar! I have dragged out St. Olaf’s shrine — I fear not to drag out the King-child as well.

LADY RAGNHILD.
[Calls to Skule.]
And he it is you have loved so deeply!

MARGRETE.
Father, father! How could you forget us all for his sake?

KING SKULE.
He was pure as a lamb of God when the penitent woman gave him to me;—’tis his faith in me has made him what he now is.

PETER.
[Without heeding him.]
The child must out! Slay it, slay it in the Queen’s arms, — that was King Skule’s word in Oslo!

MARGRETE.
Oh shame, oh shame!

PETER.
A saint might do it unsinning, at my father’s command! My father is King; for the great king’s-thought is his’

TOWNSMEN.
[Knocking at the gate.]
Open! Come out, you and the church-robber, else will we burn the convent down.

KING SKULE.
[As if seized by a strong resolution.]
The great king’s thought. ‘Tis that has poisoned your young loving soul! Pure and blameless I was to give you back; ‘tis faith in me that drives you thus wildly from crime to crime, from deadly sin to deadly sin! Oh, but I can save you yet: I can save us all!
[Calls toward the background.]
Wait, wait, ye townsmen without there: I come!

MARGRETE.
[Seizing his hand in terror.]
My father! what would you do?

LADY RAGNHILD.
[Clinging to him with a shriek.]
Skule!

SIGRID.
[Tears them away from him, and calls with wild, radiant joy.]
Loose him, loose him, women; — now his thought puts forth wings!

KING SKULE.
[Firmly and forcibly, to Peter.]
You saw in me the heaven-chosen one, — him who should do the great king’s work in the land. Look at me better, misguided boy! The rags of kingship I have decked myself withal, they were borrowed and stolen — now I put them off me, one by one.

PETER.
[In dread.]
My great, my noble father, speak not thus!

KING SKULE.
The king’s-thought is Håkon’s, not mine; to him alone has the Lord granted the power that can act it out. You have believed in a lie; turn from me, and save your soul.

PETER.
[In a broken voice.]
The king’s-thought is Håkon’s!

KING SKULE.
I yearned to be the greatest in the land. My God! my God! behold, I abase myself before thee, and stand as the least of all men.

PETER.
Take me from the earth, O Lord! Punish me for all my sin; but take me from the earth; for here am I homeless now!
[Sinks down upon the church steps.

KING SKULE.
I had a friend who bled for me at Oslo. He said: A man can die for another’s life-work; but if he is to go on living, he must live for his own. — I have no life-work to live for, neither can I live for Håkon’s, — but I can die for it.

MARGRETE.
Nay, nay, that shall you never do!

KING SKULE.
[Takes her hand, and looks at her tenderly.]
Do you love your husband, Margrete?

MARGRETE.
Better than the whole world.

KING SKULE.
You could endure that he should doom me; but could you also endure that he should let the doom be fulfilled?

MARGRETE.
Lord of heaven, give me strength!

KING SKULE.
Could you, Margrete?

MARGRETE.
[Softly and shuddering.]
No, no — we should have to part, — I could never see him more!

KING SKULE.
You would darken the fairest light of his life and of yours; — be at peace, Margrete, — it shall not be needful.

LADY RAGNHILD.
Flee from the land, Skule; I will follow you whithersoever you will.

KING SKULE.
[Shaking his head.]
With a mocking shade between us? — To-night have I found you for the first time; there must fall no shade between me and you, my silent, faithful wife; — therefore must we not seek to unite our lives on this earth.

SIGRID.
My kingly brother! I see you need me not; — I see you know what path to take.

KING SKULE.
There are men born to live, and men born to die. My desire was ever thitherward where God’s finger pointed not the way for me; therefore I never saw my path clear, till now. My peaceful home-life have I wrecked; I can never win it back again. My sins against Håkon I can atone by freeing him from a kingly duty which must have parted him from his dearest treasure. The townsfolk stand without; I will not wait for King Håkon! The Varbælgs are near; so long as I live they will not swerve from their purpose; if they find me here, I cannot save your child, Margrete. — See, look upwards! See how it wanes and pales, the flaming sword that has hung over my head! Yes, yes, — God has spoken and I have understood him, and his wrath is appeased. Not in the sanctuary of Elgesæter will I cast me down and beg for grace of an earthly king; I must into the mighty church roofed with the vault of stars and ‘tis the King of Kings I must implore for grace and mercy over all my life-work.

SIGRID.
Withstand him not! Withstand not the call of God! The day dawns; it dawns in Norway and it dawns in his restless soul! Have not we trembling women cowered long enough in our secret rooms, terror-stricken and hidden in the darkest corners, listening to all the horror that was doing without, listening to the bloody pageant that stalked over the land from end to end! Have we not lain pale and stone-like in the churches, not daring to look forth, even as Christ’s disciples lay in Jerusalem on the Great Good Friday when the Lord was led by to Golgotha! Use thy wings, and woe to them who would bind thee now!