gives my men no less praise than myself.
JATGEIR.
The King is honoured when his men are praised.
KING SKULE.
Take as guerdon this arm-ring, stay with me, and be of my household;
I will have many skalds about me.
JATGEIR.
’Twill need many, my lord, if all your great deeds are to be sung.
KING SKULE.
I will be threefold more bountiful than Håkon; the skald’s song
shall be honoured and rewarded like all other noble deeds, so long
as I am king. Be seated; now you belong to my household; all you
have need of shall be freely given you.
JATGEIR.
[_Seats himself._] Ere long there will be a dearth of what I most
need, my lord.
KING SKULE.
What mean you?
JATGEIR.
Foes to King Skule, whose flight and fall I can sing.
MANY OF THE MEN.
[_Amid laughter and applause._] Well said, Icelander!
PAUL FLIDA.
[_To_ JATGEIR.] The song was good; but ’tis known there goes a spice
of lying to every skald-work, and yours was not without it.
JATGEIR.
Lying, Sir Marshal?
PAUL FLIDA.
Ay; you say no man knows where King Håkon is hiding; that is not
true; we have certain tidings that Håkon is at Nidaros.
KING SKULE.
[_Smiling._] He has claimed homage for the King-child, and given it
the kingly title.
JATGEIR.
That have I heard; but I knew not that any man could give away that
which he himself does not possess.
KING SKULE.
’Tis easiest to give what you yourself do not possess.
BÅRD BRATTE.
But it can scarce be easy to beg your way in midwinter from Bergen
to Nidaros.
JATGEIR.
The fortunes of the Birchlegs move in a ring; they began hungry and
frozen, and now they end in like case.
PAUL FLIDA.
’Tis rumoured in Bergen that Håkon has forsworn the Church and all
that is holy; he heard not mass on New Year’s day.
BÅRD BRATTE.
He could plead lawful hindrance, Paul; he stood all day cutting his
silver goblets and dishes to pieces—he had naught else wherewith to
pay his household.
[_Laughter and loud talk among the guests._
KING SKULE.
[_Raises his goblet._] I drink to you, Bård Bratte, and thank you
and all my new men. You fought manfully for me at Låka, and bore a
great part in the victory.
BÅRD BRATTE.
It was the first time I fought under you, my lord; but I soon felt
that ’tis easy to conquer when such a chieftain as you rides at the
head of the host. But I would we had not slain so many and chased
them so far; for now I fear ’twill be long ere they dare face us
again.
KING SKULE.
Wait till the spring: we shall meet them again, never fear. Earl
Knut lies with the remnant at Tunsberg rock, and Arnbiörn Jonsson is
gathering a force eastward in Viken; when they deem themselves
strong enough, they will soon let us hear from them.
BÅRD BRATTE.
They will never dare to, after the great slaughter at Låka.
KING SKULE.
Then will we lure them forth with cunning.
MANY VOICES.
Ay, ay—do so, lord King!
BÅRD BRATTE.
You have good store of cunning, King Skule. Your foemen have never
warning ere you fall upon them, and you are ever there where they
least await you.
PAUL FLIDA.
’Tis therefore that the Birchlegs call us Vårbælgs.[38]
KING SKULE.
Others say Vargbælgs; but this I swear, that when next we meet, the
Birchlegs shall learn how hard it is to turn such Wolf-skins inside
out.
BÅRD BRATTE.
With their good will shall we never meet-’twill be a chase the whole
country round.
KING SKULE.
Ay, that it shall be. First we must purge Viken, and make sure of
all these eastward parts; then will we get our ships together, and
sail round the Naze and up the coast to Nidaros.
BÅRD BRATTE
And when you come in such wise to Nidaros, I scare think the monks
will deny to move St. Olaf’s shrine out to the mote-stead, as they
did in the autumn, when we swore allegiance.
KING SKULE.
The shrine _shall_ out; I will bear my kingship in all ways
lawfully.
JATGEIR.
And I promise you to sing a great death-song, when you have slain
the Sleeper.
[_An outburst of laughter among the men._
KING SKULE.
The Sleeper?
JATGEIR.
Know you not, my lord, that King Håkon is called “Håkon the
Sleeper,” because he sits as though benumbed ever since you came to
the throne?
BÅRD BRATTE.
They say he lies ever with his eyes closed. Doubtless he dreams that
he is still king.
KING SKULE.
Let him dream; he shall never dream himself back into the kingship.
JATGEIR.
Let his sleep be long and dreamless, then shall I have stuff for
songs.
THE MEN.
Ay, ay, do as the skald says!
KING SKULE.
When so many good men counsel as one, the counsel must be good; yet
will we not talk now of that matter. But one promise I will make:
each of my men shall inherit the weapons and harness, and gold and
silver, of whichever one of the enemy he slays; and each man shall
succeed to the dignities of him he lays low. He who slays a baron
shall himself be a baron; he who slays a thane, shall receive his
thaneship; and all they who already hold such dignities and offices,
shall be rewarded after other kingly sort.
THE MEN.
[_Spring up in wild delight._] Hail, hail, King Skule! Lead us
against the Birchlegs!
BÅRD BRATTE.
Now are you sure to conquer in all battles.
PAUL FLIDA.
I claim Dagfinn the Peasant for myself; he owns a good sword that I
have long hankered after.
BÅRD BRATTE.
I will have Bård Torsteinsson’s hauberk; it saved his life at Låka,
for it withstands both cut and thrust.
JATGEIR.
Nay, but let me have it; ’twill fit me better; you shall have five
golden marks in exchange.
BÅRD BRATTE.
Where will you find five golden marks, Skald?
JATGEIR.
I will take them from Gregorius Jonsson when we come northward.
THE MEN.
[_All talking together._] And I will have—I will have——[_The rest
becomes indistinct in the hubbub._
PAUL FLIDA.
Away! Every man to his quarters; bethink you that you are in the
King’s hall.
THE MEN.
Ay, ay—hail to the King, hail to King Skule!
KING SKULE.
To bed now, good fellows! We have sat long over the drinking-table
to-night.
A MAN-AT-ARMS.
[_As the crowd is trooping out._] To-morrow we will cast lots for
the Birchlegs’ goods.
ANOTHER.
Rather leave it to luck!
SEVERAL.
Nay, nay!
OTHERS.
Ay, ay!
BÅRD BRATTE.
Now the Wolf-skins are fighting for the bear-fell.
PAUL FLIDA.
And they have yet to fell the bear.
[_All go out by the back._
KING SKULE.
[_Waits till the men are gone; the tension of his features relaxes;
he sinks upon a bench._] How weary I am, weary to death. To live in
the midst of that swarm day out and day in, to look smilingly ahead
as though I were so immovably assured of right and victory and
fortune. To have no creature with whom I may speak of all that gnaws
me so sorely. [_Rises with a look of terror._] And the battle at
Låka! That I should have conquered there! Håkon sent his host
against me; God was to judge and award between the two kings—and I
conquered, conquered, as never any before has conquered the
Birchlegs! Their shields stood upright in the snow, but there was
none behind them—the Birchlegs took to the woods, and fled over
upland and moor and lea as far as their legs would carry them. The
unbelievable came to pass; Håkon lost and I won. There is a secret
horror in that victory. Thou great God of Heaven! there rules, then,
no certain law on high, that all things must obey? The right carries
with it no conquering might? [_With a change of tone, wildly._] I am
sick, I am sick!—Wherefore should not the right be on my side? May I
not deem that God himself would assure me of it, since he let me
conquer? [_Brooding._] The possibilities are even;—not a
feather-weight more on the one side than on the other; and
yet—[_shakes his head_]—yet the balance dips on Håkon’s part. I have
hatred and hot desire to cast into my scale, yet the balance dips on
Håkon’s part. When the thought of the kingly right comes over me
unawares, ’tis ever he, not I, that is the true king. When I would
see myself as the true king, I must do it with forethought, I must
build up a whole fabric of subtleties, a work of cunning; I must
hold memories aloof, and take faith by storm. It was not so before.
What has befallen to fill me so full of doubt? The burning of the
letter? No—that made the uncertainty eternal, but did not add to it.
Has Håkon done any great and kingly deed in these later days? No,
his greatest deeds were done while I least believed in him. [_Seats
himself on the right._] What is it? Ha, strange! It comes and goes
like a marsh-fire; it dances at the tip of my tongue, as when one
has lost a word and cannot find it. [_Springs up._] Ha! Now I have
it! No——! Yes, yes! Now I have it!—“Norway has been a _kingdom_, it
shall become a _people_; all shall be one, and all shall feel and
know that they are one!” Since Håkon spoke those madman’s words, he
stands ever before me as the rightful king. [_Whispers with fixed
and apprehensive gaze._] What if God’s calling glimmered through
these strange words? If God had garnered up the thought till now,
and would now strew it forth—and had chosen Håkon for his sower?
PAUL FLIDA.
[_Enters from the back._] My lord King, I have tidings for you.
KING SKULE.
Tidings?
PAUL FLIDA.
A man who comes from down the fiord brings news that the Birchlegs
in Tunsberg have launched their ships, and that many men have
gathered in the town in these last days.
KING SKULE.
Good, we will go forth to meet them—to-morrow or the day after.
PAUL FLIDA.
It might chance, my lord King, that the Birchlegs had a mind to meet
us first.
KING SKULE.
They have not ships enough for that, nor men.
PAUL FLIDA.
But Arnbiörn Jonsson is gathering both men and ships, all round in
Viken.
KING SKULE.
The better for us; we will crush them at one blow, as we did at
Låka.
PAUL FLIDA.
My lord, ’tis not so easy to crush the Birchlegs twice following.
KING SKULE.
And wherefore not?
PAUL FLIDA.
Because Norway’s saga tells not that the like has ever befallen.
Shall I send forth scouts to Hoved-isle?
KING SKULE.
’Tis needless; the night is dark, and there is a sea-fog to boot.
PAUL FLIDA.
Well well, the King knows best; but bethink you, my lord, that all
men are against you here in Viken. The townsfolk of Oslo hate you,
and should the Birchlegs come, they will make common cause with
them.
KING SKULE.
[_With animation._] Paul Flida, were it not possible that I could
win over the men of Viken to my side?
PAUL FLIDA.
[_Looks at him in astonishment, and shakes his head._] No, my lord,
it is not possible.
KING SKULE.
And wherefore not?
PAUL FLIDA.
Why, for that you have the Trönders on your side.
KING SKULE.
I will have both the Trönders and the men of Viken!
PAUL FLIDA.
Nay, my lord, that cannot be!
KING SKULE.
Not possible! cannot be! And wherefore—wherefore not?
PAUL FLIDA.
Because the man of Viken is the man of Viken, the Trönder is the
Trönder; because so it has always been, and no saga tells of a time
when it was otherwise.
KING SKULE.
Ay, ay—you are right. Go.
PAUL FLIDA.
And send forth no scouts?
KING SKULE.
Wait till daybreak. [PAUL FLIDA _goes_.] Norway’s saga tells of no
such thing; it has never been so yet; Paul Flida answers me as I
answered Håkon. Are there, then, upward as well as downward steps?
Stands Håkon as high over me as I over Paul Flida? Has Håkon an eye
for unborn thoughts, that is lacking in me? Who stood so high as
Harold Hårfager in the days when every headland had its king, and he
said: Now they must fall—hereafter shall there be but one? He threw
the old saga to the winds, and made a new saga. [_A pause; he paces
up and down lost in thought; then he stops._] Can one man take God’s
calling from another, as he takes weapons and gold from his fallen
foe? Can a Pretender clothe himself in a king’s life-task, as he can
put on the kingly mantle? The oak that is felled to be a ship’s
timber, can it say: Nay, I will be the mast, I will take on me the
task of the fir-tree, point upwards, tall and shining, bear the
golden vane at my top, spread bellying white sails to the sunshine,
and meet the eyes of all men, from afar!—No, no, thou heavy gnarled
oak-trunk, thy place is down in the keel; _there_ shalt thou lie,
and do thy work, unheard-of and unseen by those aloft in the
daylight; it is thou that shalt hinder the ship from being whelmed
in the storm; while the mast with the golden vane and the bellying
sail shall bear it forward toward the new, toward the unknown,
toward alien strands and the saga of the future! [_Vehemently._]
Since Håkon uttered his great king-thought, I can see no other
thought in the world but that only. If I cannot take it and act it
out, I see no other thought to fight for. [_Brooding._] And can I
not make it mine? If I cannot, whence comes my great love for
Håkon’s thought?
JATGEIR.
[_Enters from the back._] Forgive my coming, lord King——
KING SKULE.
You come to my wish, Skald!
JATGEIR.
I overheard some townsfolk at my lodging talking darkly of——
KING SKULE.
Let that wait. Tell me, Skald: you who have fared far abroad in
strange lands, have you ever seen a woman love another’s child? Not
only have kindness for it—’tis not that I mean; but _love_ it, love
it with the warmest passion of her soul.
JATGEIR.
That do only those women who have no child of their own to love.
KING SKULE.
Only those women——?
JATGEIR.
And chiefly women who are barren.
KING SKULE.
Chiefly the barren——? They love the children of others with all
their warmest passions?
JATGEIR.
That will oftentimes befall.
KING SKULE.
And does it not sometimes befall that such a barren woman will slay
another’s child, because she herself has none?
JATGEIR.
Ay, ay; but in that she does unwisely.
KING SKULE.
Unwisely?
JATGEIR.
Ay, for she gives the gift of sorrow to her whose child she slays.
KING SKULE.
Think you the gift of sorrow is a great good?
JATGEIR.
Yes, lord.
KING SKULE.
[_Looks fixedly at him._] Methinks there are two men in you,
Icelander. When you sit amid the household at the merry feast, you
draw cloak and hood over all your thoughts; when one is alone with
you, sometimes you seem to be of those among whom one were fain to
choose his friend. How comes it?
JATGEIR.
When you go to swim in the river, my lord, you would scarce strip
you where the people pass by to church; you seek a sheltered
privacy.
KING SKULE.
True, true.
JATGEIR.
My soul has the like shamefastness; therefore I do not strip me when
there are many in the hall.
KING SKULE.
Ha. [_A short pause._] Tell me, Jatgeir, how came you to be a skald?
Who taught you skald-craft?
JATGEIR.
Skaldcraft cannot be taught, my lord.
KING SKULE.
Cannot be taught? How came it then?
JATGEIR.
The gift of sorrow came to me, and I was a skald.
KING SKULE.
Then ’tis the gift of sorrow the skald has need of?
JATGEIR.
_I_ needed sorrow; others there may be who need faith, or joy—or
doubt——
KING SKULE.
Doubt as well?
JATGEIR.
Ay; but then must the doubter be strong and sound.
KING SKULE.
And whom call you the unsound doubter?
JATGEIR.
He who doubts of his own doubt.
KING SKULE.
[_Slowly._] That, methinks, were death.
JATGEIR.
’Tis worse; ’tis neither day nor night.
KING SKULE.
[_Quickly, as if shaking off his thoughts._] Where are my weapons? I
will fight and act—not think. What was it you would have told me
when you came?
JATGEIR.
’Twas what I noted in my lodging. The townsmen whisper together
secretly, and laugh mockingly, and ask if we be well assured that
King Håkon is in the westland; there is somewhat they are in glee
over.
KING SKULE.
They are men of Viken, and therefore against me.
JATGEIR.
They scoff because King Olaf’s shrine could not be brought out to
the mote-stead when you were chosen king; they say it boded ill.
KING SKULE.
When next I come to Nidaros, the shrine _shall_ out! It shall stand
under the open sky, though I should have to tear down St. Olaf’s
church and widen out the mote-stead over the spot where it stood.
JATGEIR.
That were a strong deed; but I shall make a song of it, as strong as
the deed itself.
KING SKULE.
Have you many unmade songs within you, Jatgeir?
JATGEIR.
Nay, but many unborn; they are conceived one after the other, come
to life, and are brought forth.
KING SKULE.
And if I, who am King and have the might, if I were to have you
slain, would all the unborn skald-thoughts you bear within you die
along with you?
JATGEIR.
My lord, it is a great sin to slay a fair thought.
KING SKULE.
I ask not if it be a _sin_; I ask if it be _possible_!
JATGEIR.
I know not.
KING SKULE.
Have you never had another skald for your friend, and has he never
unfolded to you a great and noble song he thought to make?
JATGEIR.
Yes, lord.
KING SKULE.
Did you not then wish that you could slay him, to take his thought
and make the song yourself?
JATGEIR.
My lord, I am not barren; I have children of my own; I need not to
love those of other men.
[_Goes._
KING SKULE.
[_After a pause._] The Icelander is in very deed a skald. He speaks
God’s deepest truth and knows it not——_I_ am as a barren woman.
Therefore I love Håkon’s kingly thought-child, love it with the
warmest passion of my soul. Oh, that I could but adopt[39] it! It
would die in my hands. Which were best, that it should die in my
hands, or wax great in his? Should I ever have peace of soul if that
came to pass? Can I forgo all? Can I stand by and see Håkon make
himself famous for all time! How dead and empty is all within me—and
around me. No friend—; ah, the Icelander! [_Goes to the door and
calls_:] Has the skald gone from the palace?
A GUARD.
[_Outside._] No, my lord; he stands in the outer hall talking with
the watch.
KING SKULE.
Bid him come hither. [_Goes forward to the table; presently_ JATGEIR
_enters_.] I cannot sleep, Jatgeir; ’tis all my great kingly
thoughts that keep me awake, you see.
JATGEIR.
’Tis with the king’s thoughts as with the skald’s, I doubt not. They
fly highest and grow quickest when there is night and stillness
around.
KING SKULE.
Is it so with the skald’s thoughts too?
JATGEIR.
Ay, lord; no song is born by daylight; it may be written down in the
sunshine; but it makes itself in the silent night.
KING SKULE.
Who gave you the gift of sorrow, Jatgeir?
JATGEIR.
She whom I loved.
KING SKULE.
She died, then.
JATGEIR.
No, she deceived me.
KING SKULE.
And then you became a skald?
JATGEIR.
Ay, then I became a skald.
KING SKULE.
[_Seizes him by the arm._] What gift do _I_ need to become a king?
JATGEIR.
Not the gift of doubt; else would you not question so.
KING SKULE.
What gift do I need?
JATGEIR.
My lord, you are a king.
KING SKULE.
Have you at all times full faith that you are a skald?
JATGEIR.
[_Looks silently at him for a while, and asks._] Have you never
loved?
KING SKULE.
Yes, once—burningly, blissfully, and in sin.
JATGEIR.
You have a wife.
KING SKULE.
Her I took to bear me sons.
JATGEIR.
But you have a daughter, my lord—a gracious and noble daughter.
KING SKULE.
Were my daughter a son, I would not ask you what gift I need.
[_Vehemently._] I must have some one by me who sinks his own will
utterly in mine—who believes in me unflinchingly, who will cling
close to me in good hap and ill, who lives only to shed light and
warmth over my life, and must die if I fall. Give me counsel,
Jatgeir Skald!
JATGEIR.
Buy yourself a dog, my lord.
KING SKULE.
Would no man suffice?
JATGEIR.
You would have to search long for such a man.
KING SKULE.
[_Suddenly._] Will _you_ be that man to me, Jatgeir? Will _you_ be a
son to me? You shall have Norway’s crown to your heritage—the whole
land shall be yours, if you will be a son to me, and live for my
life-work, and believe in me.
JATGEIR.
And what should be my warranty that I did not feign——?
KING SKULE.
Give up your calling in life; sing no more songs, and then will I
believe you!
JATGEIR.
No, lord—that were to buy the crown too dear.
KING SKULE.
Bethink you well—’tis greater to be a king than a skald.
JATGEIR.
Not always.
KING SKULE.
’Tis but your unsung songs you must sacrifice!
JATGEIR.
Songs unsung are ever the fairest.
KING SKULE.
But I must—I must have one who can trust in me! Only one! I feel
it—had I that one, I were saved!
JATGEIR.
Trust in yourself and you will be saved!
PAUL FLIDA.
[_Enters hastily._] King Skule, look to yourself! Håkon Håkonsson
lies off Elgjarness with all his fleet!
KING SKULE.
Off Elgjarness——! Then he is close at hand.
JATGEIR.
Get we to arms then! If there be bloodshed to-night, I will gladly
be the first to die for you!
KING SKULE.
You, who would not live for me!
JATGEIR.
A man can die for another’s life-work; but if he go on living, he
must live for his own.
[_Goes._
PAUL FLIDA.
[_Impatiently._] Your commands, my lord! The Birchlegs may be in
Oslo this very hour.
KING SKULE.
’Twere best if we could fare to St. Thomas Beckett’s grave; he has
helped so many a sorrowful and penitent soul.
PAUL FLIDA.
[_More forcibly._] My lord, speak not so wildly now; I tell you, the
Birchlegs are upon us!
KING SKULE.
Let all the churches be opened, that we may betake us thither and
find grace.
PAUL FLIDA.
You can crush all your foemen at one stroke, and yet would betake
you to the churches!
KING SKULE.
Yes, yes, keep all the churches open!
PAUL FLIDA.
Be sure Håkon will break sanctuary, when ’tis Vårbælgs he pursues.
KING SKULE.
That will he not; God will shield him from such a sin;—God always
shields Håkon.
PAUL FLIDA.
[_In deep and sorrowful wrath._] To hear you speak thus, a man could
not but ask: Who is king in this land?
KING SKULE.
[_Smiling mournfully._] Ay, Paul Flida, that is the great question:
_Who_ is king in this land?
PAUL FLIDA.
[_Imploringly._] You are soul-sick to-night, my lord; let me act for
you.
KING SKULE.
Ay, ay, do so.
PAUL FLIDA.
[_Going._] First will I break down all the bridges.
KING SKULE.
Madman! Stay!—Break down all the bridges! Know you what that means?
_I_ have assayed it;—beware of that!
PAUL FLIDA.
What would you then, my lord?
KING SKULE.
I will talk with Håkon.
PAUL FLIDA.
He will answer you with a tongue of steel.
KING SKULE.
Go, go;—you shall learn my will anon.
PAUL FLIDA.
Every moment is precious! [_Seizes his hand._] King Skule, let us
break down all the bridges, fight like Wolves,[40] and trust in
Heaven!
KING SKULE.
[_Softly._] Heaven trusts not in me; I dare not trust in Heaven.
PAUL FLIDA.
Short has been the saga of the Vargbælgs.
[_Goes out by the back._
KING SKULE.
A hundred cunning heads, a thousand mighty arms, are at my beck; but
not a single loving, trusting heart. That is kingly beggary; no
more, no less.
BÅRD BRATTE.
[_From the back._] Two wayfarers from afar stand without, praying to
have speech with you my lord.
KING SKULE.
Who are they?
BÅRD BRATTE.
A woman and a priest.
KING SKULE.
Let the woman and the priest approach.
[BÅRD _goes_; KING SKULE _seats himself, musing, on the
right; presently there enters a black-robed woman; she
wears a long cloak, a hood, and a thick veil, which
conceals her face; a priest follows her, and remains
standing by the door_.
KING SKULE.
Who are you?
THE WOMAN.
One you have loved.
KING SKULE.
[_Shaking his head._] There lives no one who remembers that I have
loved. Who are you, I ask?
THE WOMAN.
One who loves you.
KING SKULE.
Then are you surely one of the dead.
THE WOMAN.
[_Comes close to him and says softly and passionately._] Skule
Bårdsson!
KING SKULE.
[_Rises with a cry._] Ingeborg!
INGEBORG.
Do you know me now, Skule?
KING SKULE.
Ingeborg,—Ingeborg!
INGEBORG.
Oh, let me look at you—look long at you, so long! [_Seizes his
hands; a pause._] You fair, you deeply loved, you faithless man!
KING SKULE.
Take off that veil; look at me with the eyes that once were as clear
and blue as the sky.
INGEBORG.
These eyes have been but a rain-clouded sky for twenty years; you
would not know them again, and you shall never see them more.
KING SKULE.
But your voice is fresh and soft and young as ever!
INGEBORG.
I have used it only to whisper _your_ name, to imprint your
greatness in a young heart, and to pray to the sinners’ God for
grace toward us twain, who have loved in sin.
KING SKULE.
You have done that?
INGEBORG.
I have been silent save to speak loving words of you;—therefore has
my voice remained fresh and soft and young.
KING SKULE.
There lies a life-time between. Every fair memory from those days
have I wasted and let slip——
INGEBORG.
It was your right.
KING SKULE.
And meantime you, Ingeborg, loving, faithful woman, have dwelt there
in the north, guarding and treasuring your memories, in ice-cold
loneliness!
INGEBORG.
It was my happiness.
KING SKULE.
And I could give you up to win might and riches! With you at my
side, as my wife, I had found it easier to be a king.
INGEBORG.
God has been good to me in willing it otherwise. A soul like mine
had need of a great sin, to arouse it to remorse and expiation.
KING SKULE.
And now you come——?
INGEBORG.
As Andres Skialdarband’s widow.