weak and weary; a mild and charitable mood comes over me——
DUKE SKULE.
It is death! Trond the Priest’s letter! Where is it?
BISHOP NICHOLAS.
First another matter;—I gave you the list of my enemies——
DUKE SKULE.
[_Impatiently._] Yes, yes; I will take full revenge upon them——
BISHOP NICHOLAS.
No, my soul is filled with mildness; I will forgive, as the
Scripture commands. As you would forgo might, I will forgo revenge.
Burn the list!
DUKE SKULE.
Ay, ay; as you will.
BISHOP NICHOLAS.
Here, in the brazier; so that I may see it——
DUKE SKULE.
[_Throws the paper into the fire._] There, then; see, it burns. And
now, speak, speak. You risk thousands of lives if you speak not now!
BISHOP NICHOLAS.
[_With sparkling eyes._] Thousands of lives. [_Shrieks._] Light!
Air!
HÅKON.
[_Rushes to the door and cries._] Help! The Bishop is dying!
SIRA VILIAM _and several of the_ BISHOP’S _men enter._
DUKE SKULE.
[_Shakes the_ BISHOP’S _arm._] You risk Norway’s happiness through
hundreds of years, mayhap its greatness to all eternity!
BISHOP NICHOLAS.
To all eternity! [_Triumphantly._] _Perpetuum mobile!_
DUKE SKULE.
By your soul’s salvation,—where is Trond the Priest’s letter?
BISHOP NICHOLAS.
[_Calls._] Seven more masses, Viliam!
DUKE SKULE.
[_Beside himself._] The letter! The letter!
BISHOP NICHOLAS.
[_Smiling in his death-agony._] ’Twas it you burned, good Duke!
[_Falls back on the couch and dies._
DUKE SKULE.
[_With an involuntary cry, starts backwards and covers his face with
his hands._] Almighty God!
THE MONKS.
[_Rushing in flight from the chapel._] Save you, all who can!
SOME VOICES.
The powers of evil have broken loose!
OTHER VOICES.
There rang a loud laugh from the corner!—A voice cried: “We have
him!”——All the lights went out!
HÅKON.
Bishop Nicholas is even now dead.
THE MONKS.
[_Fleeing to the right._] Pater noster—Pater noster
HÅKON.
[_Approaches_ SKULE, _and says in a low voice._] Duke, I will not
question what secret counsel you were hatching with the Bishop ere
he died;—but from to-morrow must you give up your powers and
dignities into my hands; I see clearly now that we two cannot go
forward together.
DUKE SKULE.
[_Looks at him absently._] Go forward together——?
HÅKON.
To-morrow I hold an Assembly in the Palace; then must all things be
made clear between us.
[_Goes out to the right._
DUKE SKULE.
The Bishop dead and the letter burnt! A life full of doubt and
strife and dread! Oh, could I but pray!—No—I must act; this evening
must the stride be taken, once for all! [_To_ VILIAM.] Whither went
the King?
SIRA VILIAM.
[_Terrified._] Christ save me,—what would you with him?
DUKE SKULE.
Think you I would slay him to-night?
[_Goes out to the right._
SIRA VILIAM.
[_Looks after him, shaking his head, while the house-folk bear the
body out to the left._] Seven more masses, the Bishop said; I think
’twere safest we should say fourteen.
[_Follows the others._
--------------
_A room in the Palace. In the back is the entrance door; in each of
the side walls a smaller door; in front, on the right, a
window. Hung from the roof, a lamp is burning. Close to the
door on the left stands a bench, and further back a cradle, in
which the King-child is sleeping; MARGRETE is kneeling beside
the child._
MARGRETE.
[_Rocks the cradle and sings._]
Now roof and rafters blend with
the starry vault on high;
now flieth little Håkon
on dream-wings through the sky.
There mounts a mighty stairway
from earth to God’s own land;
there Håkon with the angels
goes climbing, hand in hand.
God’s angel-babes are watching
thy cot, the still night through;
God bless thee, little Håkon,
thy mother watcheth too.
_A short pause._ DUKE SKULE _enters from the back._
MARGRETE.
[_Starts up with a cry of joy and rushes to meet him._] My
father!—Oh, how I have sighed and yearned for this meeting!
DUKE SKULE.
God’s peace be with you, Margrete! Where is the King?
MARGRETE.
With Bishop Nicholas.
DUKE SKULE.
Ha,—then must he soon be here.
MARGRETE.
And you will talk together and be at one, be friends again, as in
the old days?
DUKE SKULE.
That would I gladly.
MARGRETE.
’Twould rejoice Håkon no less; and I pray to God every day that so
it may be. Oh, but come hither and see——
[_Takes his hand and leads him to the cradle._
DUKE SKULE.
Your child!
MARGRETE.
Ay, that lovely babe is mine;—is it not marvellous? He is called
Håkon, like the King! See, his eyes—nay, you cannot see them now he
is sleeping—but he has great blue eyes; and he can laugh, and reach
forth his hands to take hold of me.—and he knows me already.
[_Smoothes out the bed-clothes tenderly._
DUKE SKULE.
Håkon will have sons, the Bishop foretold.
MARGRETE.
To me this little child is a thousand times dearer than all Norway’s
land—and to Håkon too. Meseems I cannot rightly believe my
happiness; I have the cradle standing by my bedside; every night, as
often as I waken, I look to see if it be there—I am fearful lest it
should prove to be all a dream——
DUKE SKULE.
[_Listens and goes to the window._] Is not that the King?
MARGRETE.
Ay; he is going up the other stair; I will bring him. [_Takes her
father’s hand and leads him playfully up to the cradle._] Duke
Skule! Keep watch over the King-child the while—for he is a
King-child too—though I can never remember it! Should he wake, then
bow deeply before him, and hail him as men hail kings! Now will I
bring Håkon. Oh, God, God! now at last come light and peace over our
house. [_Goes out to the right._
DUKE SKULE.
[_After a short and gloomy silence._] Håkon has a son. His race
shall live after him. If he die, he leaves an heir who stands nearer
the throne than all others. All things thrive with Håkon. Mayhap he
is not the rightful king; but his faith in himself stands firm as
ever; the Bishop would have shaken it, but Death gave him not time,
God gave him not leave. God watches over Håkon, and suffers him to
keep the girdle of strength. Were I to tell him now? Were I to make
oath to what the Bishop told me? What would it avail? None would
believe me, neither Håkon nor the others. He would have believed the
Bishop in the hour of death; the doubt would have rankled
poisonously in him; but it was not to be. And deep-rooted as is
Håkon’s faith, so is my doubt deep-rooted; what man on earth can
weed it out? None, none. The ordeal has been endured, God has
spoken, and still Håkon may not be the rightful king, while my life
goes to waste. [_Seats himself broodingly beside a table on the
right._] And if, now, I won the kingdom, would not the doubt dwell
with me none the less, gnawing and wearing and wasting me away, with
its ceaseless icy drip, drip.—Aye; but ’tis better to sit doubting
on the throne than to stand down in the crowd, doubting of him who
sits there in your stead.—There must be an end between me and Håkon!
An end? But how? [_Rises._] Almighty, thou who hast thus bestead me,
thou must bear the guilt of the issue! [_Goes to and fro, stops and
reflects._] I must break down all bridges, hold only _one_, and
there conquer or fall—as the Bishop said at the bridal-feast at
Bergen. That is now nigh upon three years since, and through all
that time have I split up and spilt my strength in trying to guard
all the bridges. [_With energy._] Now must I follow the Bishop’s
counsel; now or never! Here are we both in Oslo; this time I have
more men than Håkon; why not seize the advantage—’tis so seldom on
my side. [_Vacillating._] But to-night——? At once——? No, no! Not
to-night! Ha-ha-ha—there again!—pondering, wavering! Håkon knows not
what that means; he goes straight forward, and so he conquers!
[_Going up the room, stops suddenly beside the cradle._] The
King-child!—How fair a brow! He is dreaming. [_Smoothes out the
bed-clothes; and looks long at the child._] Such an one as thou can
save many things in a man’s soul. I have no son. [_Bends over the
cradle._] He is like Håkon——[_Shrinks suddenly backwards._] The
King-child, said the Queen! Bow low before him and hail him as men
hail kings! Should Håkon die before me, this child will be raised to
the throne; and I—I shall stand humbly before him, and bow low and
hail him as king! [_In rising agitation._] This child, Håkon’s son,
shall sit on high, on the seat that should in right, mayhap, be
mine—and I shall stand before his footstool, white-haired and bowed
with age, and see my whole life-work lying undone—die without having
been king!—I have more men than Håkon—there blows a storm to-night,
and the wind sweeps down the fiord——! If I took the King-child? I am
safe with the Trönders.[34] What would Håkon dare attempt, were his
child in my power? My men will follow me, fight for me and conquer.
Their reward shall be kingly, and they know it.—So shall it be! I
will take the stride; I will leap the abyss, for the first time!
Could I but see if thou hast Sverre’s eyes—or Håkon Sverresson’s——!
He sleeps. I cannot see them. [_A pause._] Sleep is as a shield.
Sleep in peace, thou little Pretender! [_Goes over to the table._]
Håkon shall decide; once again will I speak with him.
MARGRETE.
[_Enters, with the_ KING, _from the room on the right._] The Bishop
dead! Oh, trust me, all strife dies with him.
HÅKON.
To bed, Margrete! You must be weary after the journey.
MARGRETE.
Yes, yes. [_To the_ DUKE.] Father, be kind and yielding—Håkon has
promised to be the like! A thousand good-nights, to both of you!
[_Makes a gesture of farewell at the door on the left, and
goes out; two women carry out the cradle._
DUKE SKULE.
King Håkon, this time we must not part as foes. All evil will
follow; there will fall a time of dread upon the land.
HÅKON.
The land has known nought else through many generations; but, see
you, God is with me; every foeman falls that would stand against me.
There are no more Baglers, no Slittungs, no Ribbungs; Earl Jon is
slain, Guthorm Ingesson is dead, Sigurd Ribbung likewise—all claims
that were put forth at the folkmote at Bergen have fallen
powerless—from whom, then, should the time of dread come now?
DUKE SKULE.
Håkon, I fear me it might come from me!
HÅKON.
When I came to the throne, I gave you the third part of the
kingdom——
DUKE SKULE.
But kept two-thirds yourself!
HÅKON.
You ever thirsted after more; I eked out your share until now you
hold half the kingdom.
DUKE SKULE.
There lack ten ship-wards.[35]
HÅKON.
I made you Duke; that has no man been in Norway before you.
DUKE SKULE.
But you are king! I must have no king over me! I was not born to
serve you; I must rule in my own right!
HÅKON.
[_Looks at him for a moment, and says coldly:_] Heaven guard your
understanding, my lord. Good night.
[_Going._
DUKE SKULE.
[_Blocking the way._] You shall not go from me thus! Beware, or I
will forswear all faith with you; you can no longer be my overlord;
we two must share!
HÅKON.
You dare to say this to me!
DUKE SKULE.
I have more men than you in Oslo, Håkon Håkonsson.
HÅKON.
Mayhap you think to——
DUKE SKULE.
Hearken to me! Think of the Bishop’s words! Let us share; give me
the ten ship-wards; let me hold my share as a free kingdom, without
tax or tribute. Norway has ere this been parted into two
kingdoms;—we will hold firmly together——
HÅKON.
Duke, you must be soul-sick, that you can crave such a thing.
DUKE SKULE.
Ay, I am soul-sick, and there is no other healing for me. We two
must be equals; there must be no man over me!
HÅKON.
Every treeless skerry is a stone in the building which Harald
Hårfager and the sainted King Olaf reared; would you have me break
in twain what they have mortised together? Never!
DUKE SKULE.
Well, then let us reign by turns; let each bear sway for three
years! You have reigned long; now my turn has come. Depart from the
land for three years;—I will be king the while; I will even out your
paths for you against your home-coming; I will guide all things for
the best;—it wears and blunts the senses to sit ever on the watch.
Håkon, hear me—three years each; let us wear the crown by turns!
HÅKON.
Think you my crown would fit well on your brow?
DUKE SKULE.
No crown is too wide for me!
HÅKON.
It needs a God-sent right and a God-sent calling to wear the crown.
DUKE SKULE.
And know you so surely that you have a God-sent right?
HÅKON.
I have God’s own word for it.
DUKE SKULE.
Rest not too surely on that. Had the Bishop had time to speak—but
that were bootless now; you would not believe me. Ay, truly you have
mighty allies on high; but I defy you none the less! You will not
reign by turns with me? Well—then must we try the last
resort;—Håkon, let us two fight for it, man to man, with heavy
weapons, for life or death!
HÅKON.
Speak you in jest, my lord?
DUKE SKULE.
I speak for my life-work and for my soul’s salvation!
HÅKON.
Then is there small hope for the saving of your soul.
DUKE SKULE.
You will not fight with me? You shall, you shall!
HÅKON.
Oh blinded man! I cannot but pity you. You think ’tis the Lord’s
calling that draws you toward the throne; you see not that ’tis
nought but pride of heart. What is it that allures you? The royal
circlet, the purple-bordered mantle, the right to be seated three
steps above the floor;—pitiful, pitiful: Were that kingship, I would
cast it into your hat, as I cast a groat to a beggar.
DUKE SKULE.
You have known me since your childhood, and you judge me thus!
HÅKON.
You have wisdom and courage and all noble gifts of the mind; you are
born to stand nearest a king, but not to be a king yourself.
DUKE SKULE.
That will we now put to the proof!
HÅKON.
Name me a single king’s-task you achieved in all the years you were
regent for me! Were the Baglers or the Ribbungs ever mightier than
then? You were in ripe manhood, yet the land was harried by
rebellious factions; did you quell a single one of them? I was young
and untried when I came to the helm—look at me—all fell before me
when I became king; there are no Baglers, no Ribbungs left!
DUKE SKULE.
Beware how you boast of that; for _there_ lies the greatest danger.
Party must stand against party, claim against claim, region against
region, if the king is to have the might. Every village, every
family, must either need him or fear him. If you strike at the root
of faction, at the same stroke you kill your own power.
HÅKON.
And you would be king—you, who think such thoughts! You had been
well fitted for a chieftain’s part in Erling Skakke’s days; but the
time has grown away from you, and you know it not. See you not,
then, that Norway’s realm, as Harald and Olaf built it up, may be
likened to a church that stands as yet unconsecrate? The walls soar
aloft with mighty buttresses, the vaultings have a noble span, the
spire points upward, like a fir-tree in the forest; but the life,
the throbbing heart, the fresh blood-stream, is lacking to the work;
God’s living spirit is not breathed into it; it stands
unconsecrate.—_I_ will bring consecration! Norway has been a
_kingdom_, it shall become a _people_. The Trönder has stood against
the man of Viken, the Agdeman against the Hordalander, the
Halogalander against the Sogndalesman; all shall be one hereafter,
and all shall feel and know that they are one! _That_ is the task
which God has laid on my shoulders; _that_ is the work which now
lies before the King of Norway. That life-work, Duke, I think you
were best to leave untried, for truly it is beyond you.
DUKE SKULE.
[_Impressed._] To unite——? To unite the Trönders and the men of
Viken,—all Norway——? [_Sceptically._] ’Tis impossible! Norway’s saga
tells of no such thing!
HÅKON.
For you ’tis impossible, for you can but work out the old saga
afresh; for me, ’tis as easy as for the falcon to cleave the clouds.
DUKE SKULE.
[_In uneasy agitation._] To unite the whole people—to awaken it so
that it shall know itself _one_! Whence got you so strange a
thought? It runs through me like ice and fire. [_Vehemently._] It
comes from the devil, Håkon; it shall never be carried through while
I have strength to buckle on my helm.
HÅKON.
’Tis from God the thought comes to me, and never shall I let it slip
while I bear St. Olaf’s circlet on my brow!
DUKE SKULE.
Then must St. Olaf’s circlet fall from your brow!
HÅKON.
Who will make it fall?
DUKE SKULE.
I, if none other.
HÅKON.
You, Skule, will be harmless after to-morrow’s Assembly.
DUKE SKULE.
Håkon! Tempt not God! Drive me not out upon the last ledge of the
deep!
HÅKON.
[_Points to the door._] Go, my lord—and be it forgotten that we have
spoken with sharp tongues this night.
DUKE SKULE.
[_Looks hard at him for a moment, and says:_] Next time, ’twill be
with sharper tongues we speak.
[_Goes to the back._
HÅKON.
[_After a short pause._] He threatens! No, no, it cannot come to
that. He must, he shall give way and do my will; I have need of that
strong arm, that cunning brain.—Whatsoever courage and wisdom and
strength there maybe in this land, all gifts that God has endowed
men withal, are but granted them to my uses. For my service did all
noble gifts fall to Duke Skule’s share; to defy me is to defy
Heaven; ’tis my duty to punish whosoever shall set himself up
against Heaven’s will—for Heaven has done so much for me.
DAGFINN THE PEASANT.
[_Enters from the back._] Be on your guard to-night, my lord; the
Duke has surely evil in his mind.
HÅKON.
What say you?
DAGFINN.
What may be his drift, I know not; but sure am I that something is
brewing.
HÅKON.
Can he think to fall upon us? Impossible, impossible!
DAGFINN.
No, ’tis something else. His ships lie clear for sailing; he has
summoned an Assembly on board them.
HÅKON.
You must mistake——! Go, Dagfinn, and bring me sure tidings.
DAGFINN.
Ay ay, trust to me.
[_Goes._
HÅKON.
No,—’tis not to be thought of! The Duke dare not rise against me.
God will not suffer it—God, who has hitherto guided all things for
me so marvellously. I must have peace now, for ’tis now I must set
about my work!—I have done so little yet; but I hear the unerring
voice of the Lord calling to me: Thou shalt do a great king’s-work
in Norway!
GREGORIUS JONSSON.
[_Enters from the back._] My lord and King!
HÅKON.
Gregorius Jonsson! Come _you_ hither?
GREGORIUS JONSSON.
I offer myself for your service. Thus far have I followed the Duke;
but now I dare follow him no further.
HÅKON.
What has befallen?
GREGORIUS JONSSON.
That which no man will believe, when ’tis rumoured through the land.
HÅKON.
Speak, speak!
GREGORIUS JONSSON.
I tremble to hear the sound of my own words; know then——
[_He seizes the_ KING’S _arm and whispers._
HÅKON.
[_Starts backwards with a cry._] Ha, are you distraught?
GREGORIUS JONSSON.
Would to God I were.
HÅKON.
Unheard of! No, it cannot be true!
GREGORIUS JONSSON.
By Christ’s dear blood, so is it!
HÅKON.
Go, go; sound the trumpet-call for my guard; get all my men under
arms.
[GREGORIUS JONSSON _goes._
HÅKON.
[_Paces the room once or twice, then goes quickly up to the door of_
MARGRETE’S _chamber, knocks at it, takes one or two more turns
through the room, then goes again to the door, knocks, and calls._]
Margrete!
[_Goes on pacing up and down._
MARGRETE.
[_In the doorway, attired for the night, with her hair down; she has
a red cloak round her shoulders, holding it close together over her
breast._] Håkon! Is it you?
HÅKON.
Yes, yes; come hither.
MARGRETE.
Oh, but you must not look at me; I was in bed already.
HÅKON.
I have other things to think of.
MARGRETE.
What has befallen.
HÅKON.
Give me a good counsel! I have even now received the worst tidings.
MARGRETE.
[_Alarmed._] What tidings, Håkon?
HÅKON.
That there are now two kings in Norway.
MARGRETE.
Two kings in Norway!—Håkon, where is my father?
HÅKON.
He has proclaimed himself king on board his ship; now he is sailing
to Nidaros to be crowned.
MARGRETE.
Oh God, thou almighty——!
[_Sinks down on the bench, covers her face with her hands
and weeps._]
HÅKON.
Two kings in the land!
MARGRETE.
My husband the one—my father the other!
HÅKON.
[_Pacing restlessly up and down._] Give me a good counsel, Margrete!
Should I cross the country by way of the Uplands, come first to
Nidaros, and prevent the crowning? No, it may not be done; My men
are too few; there in the north he is more powerful than I.—Give me
counsel; how can I have the Duke slain, ere he come to Nidaros?
MARGRETE.
[_Imploringly, with folded hands._] Håkon, Håkon!
HÅKON.
Can you not hit upon a good device, I say, to have the Duke slain?
MARGRETE.
[_Sinks down from the bench in agony and remains kneeling._] Oh, can
you so utterly forget that he is my father?
HÅKON.
Your father——; ay, ay, it is true; I had forgotten.
[_Raises her up._] Sit, sit, Margrete; comfort you; do not weep; you
have no fault in this. [_Goes over to the window._] Duke Skule will
be worse for me than all other foemen! God, God,—why hast thou
stricken me so sorely, when I have in nowise sinned! [_A knock at
the door in the back; he starts, listens, and cries:_] Who knocks so
late?
INGA’S VOICE.
[_Without._] One who is a-cold, Håkon!
HÅKON.
[_With a cry._] My mother!
MARGRETE.
[_Springs up._] Inga!
HÅKON.
[_Rushes to the door and opens it; Inga is sitting on the
doorstep._] My mother! Sitting like a dog outside her son’s door!
And I ask why God has stricken me!
INGA.
[_Stretches out her arms towards him._] Håkon, my child! Blessings
upon you!
HÅKON.
[_Raising her up._] Come—come in; here are light and warmth!
INGA.
_May_ I come in to you?
HÅKON.
Never shall we part again.
INGA.
My son—my King—oh, but you are good and loving! I stood in a corner
and saw you, as you came from the Bishop’s Palace; you looked so
sorrowful; I _could_ not part from you thus.
HÅKON.
God be thanked for that! No one, truly, could have come to me more
welcome than you. Margrete—my mother—I have sorely sinned; I have
barred my heart against you two, who are so rich in love.
MARGRETE.
[_Falls on his neck._] Oh, Håkon, my beloved husband; do I stand
near you now?
HÅKON.
Ay, near me, near me; not to give me cunning counsels, but to shed
light over my path. Come what will, I feel the Lord’s strength
within me!
DAGFINN THE PEASANT.
[_Enters hastily from the back._] My lord, my lord! The worst has
befallen!
HÅKON.
[_Smiles confidently while he holds_ MARGRETE _and_ INGA _closely to
him._] I know it; but there is nought to fear, good Dagfinn! If
there be two kings in Norway, there is but one in Heaven—and He will
set all straight!
ACT FOURTH.
_The great hall in Oslo Palace._ KING SKULE _is feasting with the
Guard and his Chiefs. In front, on the left, stands the
throne, where_ SKULE _sits, richly attired, with a purple
mantle and the royal circlet on his head. The supper-table, by
which the guests are seated, stretches from the throne towards
the background. Opposite to_ SKULE _sit_ PAUL FLIDA _and_ BÅRD
BRATTE. _Some of the humbler guests are standing, to the
right. It is late evening; the hall is brightly lighted. The
banquet is drawing to a close; the men are very merry, and
some of them drunk; they drink to each other, laugh, and all
talk together._
PAUL FLIDA.
[_Rises and strikes the table._] Silence in the hall; Jatgeir Skald
will say forth his song in honour of King Skule.
JATGEIR.
[_Stands out in the middle of the floor._[36]
Duke Skule he summoned the Örething;[37]
when ’twas mass-time in Nidaros town;
and the bells rang and swords upon bucklers clashed bravely
when Duke Skule he donned the crown.
King Skule marched over the Dovrefjeld,
his host upon snow-shoes sped;
the Gudbranddalesman he grovelled for grace,
but his hoard must e’en ransom his head.
King Skule south over Miösen fared,—
the Uplander cursed at his banner;
King Skule hasted through Raumarike to Låka in Nannestad manor.
’Twas all in the holy Shrove-tide week
we met with the Birchleg horde;
Earl Knut was their captain—the swords with loud tongue
in the suit for the throne made award.
They say of a truth that since Sverre’s days
was never so hot a fight;
red-sprent, like warriors’ winding-sheets,
grew the upland that erst lay white.
They took to their heels did the Birchenlegs,
flinging from them both buckler and bill there;
many hundreds, though, took to their heels nevermore,
for they lay and were icily chill there.
No man knows where King Håkon hideth;—
King Skule stands safe at the helm.
All hail and long life to thee, lord, in thy state
as King of all Norway’s realm!
SKULE’S MEN.
[_Spring up with loud jubilation, hold goblets and beakers
aloft, clash their weapons, and repeat:_
All hail and long life to thee, lord, in thy state as King of all
Norway’s realm!
KING SKULE.