EDITH. Thou art my music! Would their wings were mine

To follow thee to Flanders! Must thou go?

HAROLD. Not must, but will. It is but for one moon.

EDITH. Leaving so many foes in Edward's hall

To league against thy weal. The Lady Aldwyth

Was here to-day, and when she touch'd on thee,

She stammer'd in her hate; I am sure she hates thee,

Pants for thy blood.

HAROLD. Well, I have given her cause--

I fear no woman.

EDITH. Hate not one who felt

Some pity for thy hater! I am sure

Her morning wanted sunlight, she so praised

The convent and lone life--within the pale--

Beyond the passion. Nay--she held with Edward,

At least methought she held with holy Edward,

That marriage was half sin.

HAROLD. A lesson worth

Finger and thumb--thus (_snaps his fingers_). And my answer to it--

See here--an interwoven H and E!

Take thou this ring; I will demand his ward

From Edward when I come again. Ay, would she?

She to shut up my blossom in the dark!

Thou art _my_ nun, thy cloister in mine arms.

EDITH (_taking the ring_).

Yea, but Earl Tostig--

HAROLD. That's a truer fear!

For if the North take fire, I should be back;

I shall be, soon enough.

EDITH. Ay, but last night

An evil dream that ever came and went--

HAROLD. A gnat that vext thy pillow! Had I been by,

I would have spoil'd his horn. My girl, what was it?

EDITH. Oh! that thou wert not going!

For so methought it was our marriage-morn,

And while we stood together, a dead man

Rose from behind the altar, tore away

My marriage ring, and rent my bridal veil;

And then I turn'd, and saw the church all fill'd

With dead men upright from their graves, and all

The dead men made at thee to murder thee,

But thou didst back thyself against a pillar,

And strike among them with thy battle-axe--

There, what a dream!

HAROLD. Well, well--a dream--no more!

EDITH. Did not Heaven speak to men in dreams of old?

HAROLD. Ay--well--of old. I tell thee what, my child;

Thou hast misread this merry dream of thine,

Taken the rifted pillars of the wood

For smooth stone columns of the sanctuary,

The shadows of a hundred fat dead deer

For dead men's ghosts. True, that the battle-axe

Was out of place; it should have been the bow.--

Come, thou shalt dream no more such dreams; I swear it,

By mine own eyes--and these two sapphires--these

Twin rubies, that are amulets against all

The kisses of all kind of womankind

In Flanders, till the sea shall roll me back

To tumble at thy feet.

EDITH. That would but shame me,

Rather than make me vain. The sea may roll

Sand, shingle, shore-weed, not the living rock

Which guards the land.

HAROLD. Except it be a soft one,

And undereaten to the fall. Mine amulet ...

This last ... upon thine eyelids, to shut in

A happier dream. Sleep, sleep, and thou shalt see

My grayhounds fleeting like a beam of light,

And hear my peregrine and her bells in heaven;

And other bells on earth, which yet are heaven's;

Guess what they be.

EDITH. He cannot guess who knows.

Farewell, my king.

HAROLD. Not yet, but then--my queen.

[_Exeunt_.

_Enter_ ALDWYTH _from the thicket_.

ALDWYTH. The kiss that charms thine eyelids into sleep,

Will hold mine waking. Hate him? I could love him

More, tenfold, than this fearful child can do;

Griffyth I hated: why not hate the foe

Of England? Griffyth when I saw him flee,

Chased deer-like up his mountains, all the blood

That should have only pulsed for Griffyth, beat

For his pursuer. I love him or think I love him.

If he were King of England, I his queen,

I might be sure of it. Nay, I do love him.--

She must be cloister'd somehow, lest the king

Should yield his ward to Harold's will. What harm?

She hath but blood enough to live, not love.--

When Harold goes and Tostig, shall I play

The craftier Tostig with him? fawn upon him?

Chime in with all? 'O thou more saint than king!'

And that were true enough. 'O blessed relics!'

'O Holy Peter!' If he found me thus,

Harold might hate me; he is broad and honest,

Breathing an easy gladness ... not like Aldwyth ...

For which I strangely love him. Should not England

Love Aldwyth, if she stay the feuds that part

The sons of Godwin from the sons of Alfgar

By such a marrying? Courage, noble Aldwyth!

Let all thy people bless thee!

Our wild Tostig,

Edward hath made him Earl: he would be king:--

The dog that snapt the shadow, dropt the bone.--

I trust he may do well, this Gamel, whom

I play upon, that he may play the note

Whereat the dog shall howl and run, and Harold

Hear the king's music, all alone with him,

Pronounced his heir of England.

I see the goal and half the way to it.--

Peace-lover is our Harold for the sake

Of England's wholeness--so--to shake the North

With earthquake and disruption--some division--

Then fling mine own fair person in the gap

A sacrifice to Harold, a peace-offering,

A scape-goat marriage--all the sins of both

The houses on mine head--then a fair life

And bless the Queen of England.

MORCAR (_coming from the thicket_).

Art thou assured

By this, that Harold loves but Edith?

ALDWYTH. Morcar!

Why creep'st thou like a timorous beast of prey

Out of the bush by night?

MORCAR. I follow'd thee.

ALDWYTH. Follow my lead, and I will make thee earl.

MORCAR. What lead then?

ALDWYTH. Thou shalt flash it secretly

Among the good Northumbrian folk, that I--

That Harold loves me--yea, and presently

That I and Harold are betroth'd--and last--

Perchance that Harold wrongs me; tho' I would not

That it should come to that.

MORCAR. I will both flash

And thunder for thee.

ALDWYTH. I said 'secretly;'

It is the flash that murders, the poor thunder

Never harm'd head.

MORCAR. But thunder may bring down

That which the flash hath stricken.

ALDWYTH. Down with Tostig!

That first of all--And when doth Harold go?

MORCAR. To-morrow--first to Bosham, then to Flanders.

ALDWYTH. Not to come back till Tostig shall have shown

And redden'd with his people's blood the teeth

That shall be broken by us--yea, and thou

Chair'd in his place. Good-night, and dream thyself

Their chosen Earl.

[_Exit_ ALDWYTH.

MORCAR. Earl first, and after that

Who knows I may not dream myself their king!

ACT II.

SCENE I.--SEASHORE. PONTHIEU. NIGHT.

HAROLD _and his_ MEN, _wrecked_.

HAROLD. Friends, in that last inhospitable plunge

Our boat hath burst her ribs; but ours are whole;

I have but bark'd my hands.

ATTENDANT. I dug mine into

My old fast friend the shore, and clinging thus

Felt the remorseless outdraught of the deep

Haul like a great strong fellow at my legs,

And then I rose and ran. The blast that came

So suddenly hath fallen as suddenly--

Put thou the comet and this blast together--

HAROLD. Put thou thyself and mother-wit together.

Be not a fool!

_Enter_ FISHERMEN _with torches_, HAROLD _going

up to one of them_, ROLF.

Wicked sea-will-o'-the-wisp!

Wolf of the shore! dog, with thy lying lights

Thou hast betray'd us on these rocks of thine!

ROLF. Ay, but thou liest as loud as the black herring-pond behind

thee. We be fishermen; I came to see after my nets.

HAROLD. To drag us into them. Fishermen? devils!

Who, while ye fish for men with your false fires,

Let the great Devil fish for your own souls.

ROLF. Nay then, we be liker the blessed Apostles; _they_ were fishers

of men, Father Jean says.

HAROLD. I had liefer that the fish had swallowed me,

Like Jonah, than have known there were such devils.

What's to be done?

[_To his_ MEN--_goes apart with them_.

FISHERMAN. Rolf, what fish did swallow Jonah?

ROLF. A whale!

FISHERMAN. Then a whale to a whelk we have swallowed the King of

England. I saw him over there. Look thee, Rolf, when I was down in the

fever, _she_ was down with the hunger, and thou didst stand by her and

give her thy crabs, and set her up again, till now, by the patient

Saints, she's as crabb'd as ever.

ROLF. And I'll give her my crabs again, when thou art down again.

FISHERMAN. I thank thee, Rolf. Run thou to Count Guy; he is hard at

hand. Tell him what hath crept into our creel, and he will fee thee as

freely as he will wrench this outlander's ransom out of him--and why

not? for what right had he to get himself wrecked on another man's

land?

ROLF. Thou art the human-heartedest, Christian-charitiest of all

crab-catchers. Share and share alike!

[_Exit_.

HAROLD (_to_ FISHERMAN).

Fellow, dost thou catch crabs?

FISHERMAN. As few as I may in a wind, and less than I would in a calm.

Ay!

HAROLD. I have a mind that thou shalt catch no more.

FISHERMAN. How?

HAROLD. I have a mind to brain thee with mine axe.

FISHERMAN. Ay, do, do, and our great Count-crab will make his nippers

meet in thine heart; he'll sweat it out of thee, he'll sweat it out of

thee. Look, he's here! He'll speak for himself! Hold thine own, if

thou canst!

_Enter_ GUY, COUNT OF PONTHIEU.

HAROLD. Guy, Count of Ponthieu?

GUY. Harold, Earl of Wessex!

HAROLD. Thy villains with their lying lights have wreck'd us!

GUY. Art thou not Earl of Wessex?

HAROLD. In mine earldom

A man may hang gold bracelets on a bush,

And leave them for a year, and coming back

Find them again.

GUY. Thou art a mighty man

In thine own earldom!

HAROLD. Were such murderous liars

In Wessex--if I caught them, they should hang

Cliff-gibbeted for sea-marks; our sea-mew

Winging their only wail!

GUY. Ay, but my men

Hold that the shipwreckt are accursed of God;--

What hinders me to hold with mine own men?

HAROLD. The Christian manhood of the man who reigns!

GUY. Ay, rave thy worst, but in our oubliettes

Thou shalt or rot or ransom. Hale him hence!

[_To one of his_ ATTENDANTS.

Fly thou to William; tell him we have Harold.

SCENE II.--BAYEUX. PALACE.

COUNT WILLIAM _and_ WILLIAM MALET.

WILLIAM. We hold our Saxon woodcock in the springe,

But he begins to flutter. As I think

He was thine host in England when I went

To visit Edward.

MALET. Yea, and there, my lord,

To make allowance for their rougher fashions,

I found him all a noble host should be.

WILLIAM. Thou art his friend: thou know'st my claim on England

Thro' Edward's promise: we have him in the toils.

And it were well, if thou shouldst let him feel,

How dense a fold of danger nets him round,

So that he bristle himself against my will.

MALET. What would I do, my lord, if I were you?

WILLIAM. What wouldst thou do?

MALET. My lord, he is thy guest.

WILLIAM. Nay, by the splendour of God, no guest of mine.

He came not to see me, had past me by

To hunt and hawk elsewhere, save for the fate

Which hunted _him_ when that un-Saxon blast,

And bolts of thunder moulded in high heaven

To serve the Norman purpose, drave and crack'd

His boat on Ponthieu beach; where our friend Guy

Had wrung his ransom from him by the rack,

But that I slept between and purchased him,

Translating his captivity from Guy

To mine own hearth at Bayeux, where he sits

My ransom'd prisoner.

MALET. Well, if not with gold,

With golden deeds and iron strokes that brought

Thy war with Brittany to a goodlier close

Than else had been, he paid his ransom back.

WILLIAM. So that henceforth they are not like to league

With Harold against _me_.

MALET. A marvel, how

He from the liquid sands of Coesnon

Haled thy shore-swallow'd, armour'd Normans up

To fight for thee again!

WILLIAM. Perchance against

Their saver, save thou save him from himself.

MALET. But I should let him home again, my lord.

WILLIAM. Simple! let fly the bird within the hand,

To catch the bird again within the bush!

No.

Smooth thou my way, before he clash with me;

I want his voice in England for the crown,

I want thy voice with him to bring him round;

And being brave he must be subtly cow'd,

And being truthful wrought upon to swear

Vows that he dare not break. England our own

Thro' Harold's help, he shall be my dear friend

As well as thine, and thou thyself shalt have

Large lordship there of lands and territory.

MALET. I knew thy purpose; he and Wulfnoth never

Have met, except in public; shall they meet

In private? I have often talk'd with Wulfnoth,

And stuff'd the boy with fears that these may act

On Harold when they meet.

WILLIAM. Then let them meet!

MALET. I can but love this noble, honest Harold.

WILLIAM. Love him! why not? thine is a loving office,

I have commission'd thee to save the man:

Help the good ship, showing the sunken rock,

Or he is wreckt for ever.

_Enter_ WILLIAM RUFUS.

WILLIAM RUFUS. Father.

WILLIAM. Well, boy.

WILLIAM RUFUS. They have taken away the toy thou gavest me,

The Norman knight.

WILLIAM. Why, boy?

WILLIAM RUFUS. Because I broke

The horse's leg--it was mine own to break;

I like to have my toys, and break them too.

WILLIAM. Well, thou shalt have another Norman knight!

WILLIAM RUFUS. And may I break his legs?

WILLIAM. Yea,--get thee gone!

WILLIAM RUFUS. I'll tell them I have had my way with thee.

[_Exit_.

MALET. I never knew thee check thy will for ought

Save for the prattling of thy little ones.

WILLIAM. Who shall be kings of England. I am heir

Of England by the promise of her king.

MALET. But there the great Assembly choose their king,

The choice of England is the voice of England.

WILLIAM. I will be king of England by the laws,

The choice, and voice of England.

MALET. Can that be?

WILLIAM. The voice of any people is the sword

That guards them, or the sword that beats them down.

Here comes the would-be what I will be ... king-like ...

Tho' scarce at ease; for, save our meshes break,

More kinglike he than like to prove a king.

_Enter_ HAROLD, _musing, with his eyes on the ground_.

He sees me not--and yet he dreams of me.

Earl, wilt thou fly my falcons this fair day?

They are of the best, strong-wing'd against the wind.

HAROLD (_looking up suddenly, having caught but the last word_).

_Which_ way does it blow?

WILLIAM. Blowing for England, ha?

Not yet. Thou hast not learnt thy quarters here.

The winds so cross and jostle among these towers.

HAROLD. Count of the Normans, thou hast ransom'd us,

Maintain'd, and entertain'd us royally!

WILLIAM. And thou for us hast fought as loyally,

Which binds us friendship-fast for ever!

HAROLD. Good!

But lest we turn the scale of courtesy

By too much pressure on it, I would fain,

Since thou hast promised Wulfnoth home with us,

Be home again with Wulfnoth.

WILLIAM. Stay--as yet

Thou hast but seen how Norman hands can strike,

But walk'd our Norman field, scarce touch'd or tasted

The splendours of our Court.

HAROLD. I am in no mood:

I should be as the shadow of a cloud

Crossing your light.

WILLIAM. Nay, rest a week or two,

And we will fill thee full of Norman sun,

And send thee back among thine island mists

With laughter.

HAROLD. Count, I thank thee, but had rather

Breathe the free wind from off our Saxon downs,

Tho' charged with all the wet of all the west.

WILLIAM. Why if thou wilt, so let it be--thou shalt.

That were a graceless hospitality

To chain the free guest to the banquet-board;

To-morrow we will ride with thee to Harfleur,

And see thee shipt, and pray in thy behalf

For happier homeward winds than that which crack'd

Thy bark at Ponthieu,--yet to us, in faith,

A happy one--whereby we came to know

Thy valour and thy value, noble earl.

Ay, and perchance a happy one for thee,

Provided--I will go with thee to-morrow--

Nay--but there be conditions, easy ones,

So thou, fair friend, will take them easily.

_Enter_ PAGE.

PAGE. My lord, there is a post from over seas

With news for thee. [_Exit_ PAGE.

WILLIAM. Come, Malet, let us hear!

[_Exeunt_ COUNT WILLIAM _and_ MALET.

HAROLD. Conditions? What conditions? pay him back

His ransom? 'easy '--that were easy--nay--

No money-lover he! What said the King?

'I pray you do not go to Normandy.'

And fate hath blown me hither, bound me too

With bitter obligation to the Count--

Have I not fought it out? What did he mean?

There lodged a gleaming grimness in his eyes,

Gave his shorn smile the lie. The walls oppress me,

And yon huge keep that hinders half the heaven.

Free air! free field!

[_Moves to go out. A_ MAN-AT-ARMS _follows him_.

HAROLD (_to the_ MAN-AT-ARMS).

I need thee not. Why dost thou follow me?

MAN-AT-ARMS. I have the Count's commands to follow thee.

HAROLD. What then? Am I in danger in this court?

MAN-AT-ARMS. I cannot tell. I have the Count's commands.

HAROLD. Stand out of earshot then, and keep me still

In eyeshot.

MAN-AT-ARMS. Yea, lord Harold. [_Withdraws_.

HAROLD. And arm'd men

Ever keep watch beside my chamber door,

And if I walk within the lonely wood,

There is an arm'd man ever glides behind!

_Enter_ MALET.

Why am I follow'd, haunted, harass'd, watch'd?

See yonder! [_Pointing to the_ MAN-AT-ARMS.

MALET. 'Tis the good Count's care for thee!

The Normans love thee not, nor thou the Normans,

Or--so they deem.

HAROLD. But wherefore is the wind,

Which way soever the vane-arrow swing,

Not ever fair for England? Why but now

He said (thou heardst him) that I must not hence

Save on conditions.

MALET. So in truth he said.

HAROLD. Malet, thy mother was an Englishwoman;

There somewhere beats an English pulse in thee!

MALET. Well--for my mother's sake I love your England,

But for my father I love Normandy.

HAROLD. Speak for thy mother's sake, and tell me true.

MALET. Then for my mother's sake, and England's sake

That suffers in the daily want of thee,

Obey the Count's conditions, my good friend.

HAROLD. How, Malet, if they be not honourable!

MALET. Seem to obey them.

HAROLD. Better die than lie!

MALET. Choose therefore whether thou wilt have thy conscience

White as a maiden's hand, or whether England

Be shatter'd into fragments.

HAROLD. News from England?

MALET. Morcar and Edwin have stirr'd up the Thanes

Against thy brother Tostig's governance;

And all the North of Humber is one storm.

HAROLD. I should be there, Malet, I should be there!

MALET. And Tostig in his own hall on suspicion

Hath massacred the Thane that was his guest,

Gamel, the son of Orm: and there be more

As villainously slain.

HAROLD. The wolf! the beast!

Ill news for guests, ha, Malet! More? What more?

What do they say? did Edward know of this?

MALET. They say, his wife was knowing and abetting.

HAROLD. They say, his wife!--To marry and have no husband

Makes the wife fool. My God, I should be there.

I'll hack my way to the sea.

MALET. Thou canst not, Harold;

Our Duke is all between thee and the sea,

Our Duke is all about thee like a God;

All passes block'd. Obey him, speak him fair,

For he is only debonair to those

That follow where he leads, but stark as death

To those that cross him.--Look thou, here is Wulfnoth!

I leave thee to thy talk with him alone;

How wan, poor lad! how sick and sad for home!

[_Exit_ MALET.

HAROLD (_muttering_).

Go not to Normandy--go not to Normandy!

_Enter_ WULFNOTH.

Poor brother! still a hostage!

WULFNOTH. Yea, and I

Shall see the dewy kiss of dawn no more

Make blush the maiden-white of our tall cliffs,

Nor mark the sea-bird rouse himself and hover

Above the windy ripple, and fill the sky

With free sea-laughter--never--save indeed

Thou canst make yield this iron-mooded Duke

To let me go.

HAROLD. Why, brother, so he will;

But on conditions. Canst thou guess at them?

WULFNOTH. Draw nearer,--I was in the corridor,

I saw him coming with his brother Odo

The Bayeux bishop, and I hid myself.

HAROLD. They did thee wrong who made thee hostage; thou

Wast ever fearful.

WULFNOTH. And he spoke--I heard him--

'This Harold is not of the royal blood,

Can have no right to the crown,' and Odo said,

'Thine is the right, for thine the might; he is here,

And yonder is thy keep.'

HAROLD. No, Wulfnoth, no.

WULFNOTH. And William laugh'd and swore that might was right,

Far as he knew in this poor world of ours--

'Marry, the Saints must go 'along with us,

And, brother, we will find a way,' said he--

Yea, yea, he would be king of England.

HAROLD. Never!

WULFNOTH. Yea, but thou must not this way answer _him_.

HAROLD. Is it not better still to speak the truth?

WULFNOTH. Not here, or thou wilt never hence nor I:

For in the racing toward this golden goal

He turns not right or left, but tramples flat

Whatever thwarts him; hast thou never heard

His savagery at Alencon,--the town

Hung out raw hides along their walls, and cried

'Work for the tanner.'

HAROLD. That had anger'd _me_

Had I been William.

WULFNOTH. Nay, but he had prisoners,

He tore their eyes out, sliced their hands away,

And flung them streaming o'er the battlements

Upon the heads of those who walk'd within--

O speak him fair, Harold, for thine own sake.

HAROLD. Your Welshman says, 'The Truth against the World,'

Much more the truth against myself.

WULFNOTH. Thyself?

But for my sake, oh brother! oh! for my sake!

HAROLD. Poor Wulfnoth! do they not entreat thee well?

WULFNOTH. I see the blackness of my dungeon loom

Across their lamps of revel, and beyond

The merriest murmurs of their banquet clank

The shackles that will bind me to the wall.

HAROLD. Too fearful still!

WULFNOTH. Oh no, no--speak him fair!

Call it to temporize; and not to lie;

Harold, I do not counsel thee to lie.

The man that hath to foil a murderous aim

May, surely, play with words.

HAROLD. Words are the man.

Not ev'n for thy sake, brother, would I lie.

WULFNOTH. Then for thine Edith?

HAROLD. There thou prick'st me deep.

WULFNOTH. And for our Mother England?

HAROLD. Deeper still.

WULFNOTH. And deeper still the deep-down oubliette,

Down thirty feet below the smiling day--

In blackness--dogs' food thrown upon thy head.

And over thee the suns arise and set,

And the lark sings, the sweet stars come and go,

And men are at their markets, in their fields,

And woo their loves and have forgotten thee;

And thou art upright in thy living grave,

Where there is barely room to shift thy side,

And all thine England hath forgotten thee;

And he our lazy-pious Norman King,

With all his Normans round him once again,

Counts his old beads, and hath forgotten thee.

HAROLD. Thou art of my blood, and so methinks, my boy,

Thy fears infect me beyond reason. Peace!

WULFNOTH. And then our fiery Tostig, while thy hands

Are palsied here, if his Northumbrians rise

And hurl him from them,--I have heard the Normans

Count upon this confusion--may he not make

A league with William, so to bring him back?

HAROLD. That lies within the shadow of the chance.

WULFNOTH. And like a river in flood thro' a burst dam

Descends the ruthless Norman--our good King

Kneels mumbling some old bone--our helpless folk

Are wash'd away, wailing, in their own blood--

HAROLD. Wailing! not warring? Boy, thou hast forgotten

That thou art English.

WULFNOTH. Then our modest women--

I know the Norman license--thine own Edith--

HAROLD. No more! I will not hear thee--William comes.

WULFNOTH. I dare not well be seen in talk with thee.

Make thou not mention that I spake with thee.

[_Moves away to the back of the stage_.

_Enter_ WILLIAM, MALET, _and_ OFFICER.

OFFICER. We have the man that rail'd against thy birth.

WILLIAM. Tear out his tongue.

OFFICER. He shall not rail again.

He said that he should see confusion fall

On thee and on thine house.

WILLIAM. Tear out his eyes, And plunge him into prison.

OFFICER. It shall be done.

[_Exit_ OFFICER.

WILLIAM. Look not amazed, fair earl! Better leave undone

Than do by halves--tongueless and eyeless, prison'd--

HAROLD. Better methinks have slain the man at once!

WILLIAM. We have respect for man's immortal soul,

We seldom take man's life, except in war;

It frights the traitor more to maim and blind.

HAROLD. In mine own land I should have scorn'd the man,

Or lash'd his rascal back, and let him go.

WILLIAM. And let him go? To slander thee again!

Yet in thine own land in thy father's day

They blinded my young kinsman, Alfred--ay,

Some said it was thy father's deed.

HAROLD. They lied.

WILLIAM. But thou and he--whom at thy word, for thou

Art known a speaker of the truth, I free

From this foul charge--

HAROLD. Nay, nay, he freed himself

By oath and compurgation from the charge.

The king, the lords, the people clear'd him of it.

WILLIAM. But thou and he drove our good Normans out

From England, and this rankles in us yet.

Archbishop Robert hardly scaped with life.

HAROLD. Archbishop Robert! Robert the Archbishop!

Robert of Jumieges, he that--

MALET. Quiet! quiet!

HAROLD. Count! if there sat within the Norman chair

A ruler all for England--one who fill'd

All offices, all bishopricks with English--

We could not move from Dover to the Humber

Saving thro' Norman bishopricks--I say

Ye would applaud that Norman who should drive

The stranger to the fiends!

WILLIAM. Why, that is reason!

Warrior thou art, and mighty wise withal!

Ay, ay, but many among our Norman lords

Hate thee for this, and press upon me--saying

God and the sea have given thee to our hands--

To plunge thee into life-long prison here:--

Yet I hold out against them, as I may,

Yea--would hold out, yea, tho' they should revolt--

For thou hast done the battle in my cause;

I am thy fastest friend in Normandy.

HAROLD. I am doubly bound to thee ... if this be so.

WILLIAM. And I would bind thee more, and would myself

Be bounden to thee more.

HAROLD. Then let me hence With Wulfnoth to King Edward.

WILLIAM. So we will. We hear he hath not long to live.

HAROLD. It may be.

WILLIAM. Why then the heir of England, who is he?

HAROLD. The Atheling is nearest to the throne.

WILLIAM. But sickly, slight, half-witted and a child,

Will England have him king?

HAROLD. It may be, no.

WILLIAM. And hath King Edward not pronounced his heir?

HAROLD. Not that I know.

WILLIAM. When he was here in Normandy,

He loved us and we him, because we found him.

A Norman of the Normans.

HAROLD. So did we.

WILLIAM. A gentle, gracious, pure and saintly man!

And grateful to the hand that shielded him,

He promised that if ever he were king

In England, he would give his kingly voice

To me as his successor. Knowest thou this?

HAROLD. I learn it now.

WILLIAM. Thou knowest I am his cousin,

And that my wife descends from Alfred?

HAROLD. Ay.

WILLIAM. Who hath a better claim then to the crown

So that ye will not crown the Atheling?

HAROLD. None that I know ... if that but hung upon

King Edward's will.

WILLIAM. Wilt thou uphold my claim?

MALET (_aside to_ HAROLD).

Be careful of thine answer, my good friend.

WULFNOTH (_aside to_ HAROLD).

Oh! Harold, for my sake and for thine own!

HAROLD. Ay ... if the king have not revoked his promise.

WILLIAM. But hath he done it then?

HAROLD. Not that I know.

WILLIAM. Good, good, and thou wilt help me to the crown?

HAROLD. Ay ... if the Witan will consent to this.

WILLIAM. Thou art the mightiest voice in England, man,

Thy voice will lead the Witan--shall I have it?

WULFNOTH (_aside to_ HAROLD).

Oh! Harold, if thou love thine Edith, ay.

HAROLD. Ay, if--

MALET (_aside to_ HAROLD).

Thine 'ifs' will sear thine eyes out--ay.

WILLIAM. I ask thee, wilt thou help me to the crown?

And I will make thee my great Earl of Earls,

Foremost in England and in Normandy;

Thou shalt be verily king--all but the name--

For I shall most sojourn in Normandy;

And thou be my vice-king in England. Speak.

WULFNOTH (_aside to_ HAROLD).

Ay, brother--for the sake of England--ay.

HAROLD. My lord--

MALET (_aside to_ HAROLD).

Take heed now.

HAROLD. Ay.

WILLIAM. I am content,

For thou art truthful, and thy word thy bond.

To-morrow will we ride with thee to Harfleur.

[_Exit_ WILLIAM.

MALET. Harold, I am thy friend, one life with thee,

And even as I should bless thee saving mine,

I thank thee now for having saved thyself.

[_Exit_ MALET.

HAROLD. For having lost myself to save myself,

Said 'ay' when I meant 'no,' lied like a lad

That dreads the pendent scourge, said 'ay' for 'no'!

Ay! No!--he hath not bound me by an oath--

Is 'ay' an oath? is 'ay' strong as an oath?

Or is it the same sin to break my word

As break mine oath? He call'd my word my bond!

He is a liar who knows I am a liar,

And makes believe that he believes my word--

The crime be on his head--not bounden--no.

[_Suddenly doors are flung open, discovering in an

inner hall_ COUNT WILLIAM _in his state robes,

seated upon his throne, between two_ BISHOPS,

ODO OP BAYEUX _being one: in the centre of

the hall an ark covered with cloth of gold;

and on either side of it the_ NORMAN BARONS.

_Enter a_ JAILOR _before_ WILLIAM'S _throne_.

WILLIAM (_to_ JAILOR).

Knave, hast thou let thy prisoner scape?

JAILOR. Sir Count,

He had but one foot, he must have hopt away,

Yea, some familiar spirit must have help'd him.

WILLIAM. Woe knave to thy familiar and to thee!

Give me thy keys. [_They fall clashing_.

Nay let them lie. Stand there and wait my will.

[_The_ JAILOR _stands aside_.

WILLIAM (_to_ HAROLD).

Hast thou such trustless jailors in thy North?

HAROLD. We have few prisoners in mine earldom there,

So less chance for false keepers.

WILLIAM. We have heard

Of thy just, mild, and equal governance;

Honour to thee! thou art perfect in all honour!

Thy naked word thy bond! confirm it now

Before our gather'd Norman baronage,

For they will not believe thee--as I believe.

[_Descends from his throne and stands by the ark_.

Let all men here bear witness of our bond!

[_Beckons to_ HAROLD, _who advances_.

_Enter_ MALET _behind him_.

Lay thou thy hand upon this golden pall!

Behold the jewel of St. Pancratius

Woven into the gold. Swear thou on this!

HAROLD. What should I swear? Why should I swear on this?

WILLIAM (_savagely_).

Swear thou to help me to the crown of England.

MALET (_whispering_ HAROLD).

My friend, thou hast gone too far to palter now.

WULFNOTH (_whispering_ HAROLD).

Swear thou to-day, to-morrow is thine own.

HAROLD. I swear to help thee to the crown of England ...

According as King Edward promises.

WILLIAM. Thou must swear absolutely, noble Earl.

MALET (_whispering_).

Delay is death to thee, ruin to England.

WULFNOTH (_whispering_).

Swear, dearest brother, I beseech thee, swear!

HAROLD (_putting his hand on the jewel_).

I swear to help thee to the crown of England.

WILLIAM. Thanks, truthful Earl; I did not doubt thy word,

But that my barons might believe thy word,

And that the Holy Saints of Normandy

When thou art home in England, with thine own,

Might strengthen thee in keeping of thy word,

I made thee swear.--Show him by whom he hath sworn.

[_The two_ BISHOPS _advance, and raise the cloth of gold.

The bodies and bones of Saints are seen lying in the ark_.

The holy bones of all the Canonised

From all the holiest shrines in Normandy!

HAROLD. Horrible! [_They let the cloth fall again_.

WILLIAM. Ay, for thou hast sworn an oath

Which, if not kept, would make the hard earth rive

To the very Devil's horns, the bright sky cleave

To the very feet of God, and send her hosts

Of injured Saints to scatter sparks of plague

Thro' all your cities, blast your infants, dash

The torch of war among your standing corn,

Dabble your hearths with your own blood.--Enough!

Thou wilt not break it! I, the Count--the King--

Thy friend--am grateful for thine honest oath,

Not coming fiercely like a conqueror, now,

But softly as a bridegroom to his own.

For I shall rule according to your laws,

And make your ever-jarring Earldoms move

To music and in order--Angle, Jute,

Dane, Saxon, Norman, help to build a throne

Out-towering hers of France.... The wind is fair

For England now.... To-night we will be merry.

To-morrow will I ride with thee to Harfleur.

[_Exeunt_ WILLIAM _and all the_ NORMAN BARONS, _etc_.

HAROLD. To-night we will be merry--and to-morrow--

Juggler and bastard--bastard--he hates that most--

William the tanner's bastard! Would he heard me!

O God, that I were in some wide, waste field

With nothing but my battle-axe and him

To spatter his brains! Why let earth rive, gulf in

These cursed Normans--yea and mine own self.

Cleave heaven, and send thy saints that I may say

Ev'n to their faces, 'If ye side with William

Ye are not noble.' How their pointed fingers

Glared at me! Am I Harold, Harold, son

Of our great Godwin? Lo! I touch mine arms,

My limbs--they are not mine--they are a liar's--

I mean to be a liar--I am not bound--

Stigand shall give me absolution for it--

Did the chest move? did it move? I am utter craven!

O Wulfnoth, Wulfnoth, brother, thou hast betray'd me!

WULFNOTH. Forgive me, brother, I will live here and die.

_Enter_ PAGE.

PAGE. My lord! the Duke awaits thee at the banquet.

HAROLD. Where they eat dead men's flesh, and drink their blood.

PAGE. My lord--

HAROLD. I know your Norman cookery is so spiced,

It masks all this.

PAGE. My lord! thou art white as death.

HAROLD. With looking on the dead. Am I so white?

Thy Duke will seem the darker. Hence, I follow.

[_Exeunt_.

ACT III.

SCENE I.--THE KING'S PALACE. LONDON.

KING EDWARD _dying on a couch, and by him standing the_ QUEEN, HAROLD,

ARCHBISHOP STIGAND, GURTH, LEOFWIN, ARCHBISHOP ALDRED, ALDWYTH, _and_

EDITH.

STIGAND. Sleeping or dying there? If this be death,

Then our great Council wait to crown thee King--

Come hither, I have a power; [_To_ HAROLD.

They call me near, for I am close to thee

And England--I, old shrivell'd Stigand, I,

Dry as an old wood-fungus on a dead tree,

I have a power!

See here this little key about my neck!

There lies a treasure buried down in Ely:

If e'er the Norman grow too hard for thee,

Ask me for this at thy most need, son Harold,

At thy most need--not sooner.

HAROLD. So I will.

STIGAND. Red gold--a hundred purses--yea, and more!

If thou canst make a wholesome use of these

To chink against the Norman, I do believe

My old crook'd spine would bud out two young wings

To fly to heaven straight with.

HAROLD. Thank thee, father!

Thou art English, Edward too is English now,

He hath clean repented of his Normanism.

STIGAND. Ay, as the libertine repents who cannot

Make done undone, when thro' his dying sense

Shrills 'lost thro' thee.' They have built their castles here;

Our priories are Norman; the Norman adder

Hath bitten us; we are poison'd: our dear England

Is demi-Norman. He!--

[_Pointing to_ KING EDWARD, _sleeping_.

HAROLD. I would I were

As holy and as passionless as he!

That I might rest as calmly! Look at him--

The rosy face, and long down-silvering beard,

The brows unwrinkled as a summer mere.--

STIGAND. A summer mere with sudden wreckful gusts

From a side-gorge. Passionless? How he flamed

When Tostig's anger'd earldom flung him, nay,

He fain had calcined all Northumbria

To one black ash, but that thy patriot passion

Siding with our great Council against Tostig,

Out-passion'd his! Holy? ay, ay, forsooth,

A conscience for his own soul, not his realm;

A twilight conscience lighted thro' a chink;

Thine by the sun; nay, by some sun to be,

When all the world hath learnt to speak the truth,

And lying were self-murder by that state

Which was the exception.

HAROLD. That sun may God speed!

STIGAND. Come, Harold, shake the cloud off!

HAROLD. Can I, father?

Our Tostig parted cursing me and England;

Our sister hates us for his banishment;

He hath gone to kindle Norway against England,

And Wulfnoth is alone in Normandy.

For when I rode with William down to Harfleur,

'Wulfnoth is sick,' he said; 'he cannot follow;'

Then with that friendly-fiendly smile of his,

'We have learnt to love him, let him a little longer

Remain a hostage for the loyalty

Of Godwin's house.' As far as touches Wulfnoth

I that so prized plain word and naked truth

Have sinn'd against it--all in vain.

LEOFWIN. Good brother,

By all the truths that ever priest hath preach'd,

Of all the lies that ever men have lied,

Thine is the pardonablest.

HAROLD. May be so!

I think it so, I think I am a fool

To think it can be otherwise than so.

STIGAND. Tut, tut, I have absolved thee: dost thou scorn me,

Because I had my Canterbury pallium,

From one whom they dispoped?

HAROLD. No, Stigand, no!

STIGAND. Is naked truth actable in true life?

I have heard a saying of thy father Godwin,

That, were a man of state nakedly true,

Men would but take him for the craftier liar.

LEOFWIN. Be men less delicate than the Devil himself?

I thought that naked Truth would shame the Devil,

The Devil is so modest.

GURTH. He never said it!

LEOFWIN. Be thou not stupid-honest, brother Gurth!

HAROLD. Better to be a liar's dog, and hold

My master honest, than believe that lying

And ruling men are fatal twins that cannot

Move one without the other. Edward wakes!--

Dazed--he hath seen a vision.

EDWARD. The green tree!

Then a great Angel past along the highest

Crying 'the doom of England,' and at once

He stood beside me, in his grasp a sword

Of lightnings, wherewithal he cleft the tree

From off the bearing trunk, and hurl'd it from him

Three fields away, and then he dash'd and drench'd,

He dyed, he soak'd the trunk with human blood,

And brought the sunder'd tree again, and set it

Straight on the trunk, that thus baptized in blood

Grew ever high and higher, beyond my seeing,

And shot out sidelong boughs across the deep

That dropt themselves, and rooted in far isles

Beyond my seeing: and the great Angel rose

And past again along the highest crying

'The doom of England!'--Tostig, raise my head!

[_Falls back senseless_.

HAROLD (_raising him_).

Let Harold serve for Tostig!

_QUEEN_. Harold served

Tostig so ill, he cannot serve for Tostig!

Ay, raise his head, for thou hast laid it low!

The sickness of our saintly king, for whom

My prayers go up as fast as my tears fall,

I well believe, hath mainly drawn itself

From lack of Tostig--thou hast banish'd him.

HAROLD. Nay--but the council, and the king himself.

QUEEN. Thou hatest him, hatest him.

HAROLD (_coldly_).

Ay--Stigand, unriddle

This vision, canst thou?

STIGAND. Dotage!

EDWARD (_starting up_).

It is finish'd.

I have built the Lord a house--the Lord hath dwelt

In darkness. I have built the Lord a house--

Palms, flowers, pomegranates, golden cherubim

With twenty-cubit wings from wall to wall--

I have built the Lord a house--sing, Asaph! clash

The cymbal, Heman! blow the trumpet, priest!

Fall, cloud, and fill the house--lo! my two pillars,

Jachin and Boaz!-- [_Seeing_ HAROLD _and_ GURTH.

Harold, Gurth,--where am I?

Where is the charter of our Westminster?

STIGAND. It lies beside thee, king, upon thy bed.

EDWARD. Sign, sign at once--take, sign it, Stigand, Aldred!

Sign it, my good son Harold, Gurth, and Leofwin,

Sign it, my queen!

ALL. We have sign'd it.

EDWARD. It is finish'd!

The kingliest Abbey in all Christian lands,

The lordliest, loftiest minster ever built

To Holy Peter in our English isle!

Let me be buried there, and all our kings,

And all our just and wise and holy men

That shall be born hereafter. It is finish'd!

Hast thou had absolution for thine oath? [_To_ HAROLD.

HAROLD. Stigand hath given me absolution for it.

EDWARD. Stigand is not canonical enough

To save thee from the wrath of Norman Saints.

STIGAND. Norman enough! Be there no Saints of England

To help us from their brethren yonder?

EDWARD. Prelate,

The Saints are one, but those of Normanland

Are mightier than our own. Ask it of Aldred.

[_To_ HAROLD.

ALDRED. It shall be granted him, my king; for he

Who vows a vow to strangle his own mother

Is guiltier keeping this, than breaking it.

EDWARD. O friends, I shall not overlive the day.

STIGAND. Why then the throne is empty. Who inherits?

For tho' we be not bound by the king's voice

In making of a king, yet the king's voice

Is much toward his making. Who inherits?

Edgar the Atheling?

EDWARD. No, no, but Harold.

I love him: he hath served me: none but he

Can rule all England. Yet the curse is on him

For swearing falsely by those blessed bones;

He did not mean to keep his vow.

HAROLD. Not mean

To make our England Norman.

EDWARD. There spake Godwin,

Who hated all the Normans; but their Saints

Have heard thee, Harold.

EDITH. Oh! my lord, my king!

He knew not whom he sware by.

EDWARD. Yea, I know

He knew not, but those heavenly ears have heard,

Their curse is on him; wilt thou bring another,

Edith, upon his head?

EDITH. No, no, not I.

EDWARD. Why then, thou must not wed him.

HAROLD. Wherefore, wherefore?

EDWARD. O son, when thou didst tell me of thine oath,

I sorrow'd for my random promise given

To yon fox-lion. I did not dream then

I should be king.--My son, the Saints are virgins;

They love the white rose of virginity,

The cold, white lily blowing in her cell:

I have been myself a virgin; and I sware

To consecrate my virgin here to heaven--

The silent, cloister'd, solitary life,

A life of life-long prayer against the curse

That lies on thee and England.

HAROLD. No, no, no.

EDWARD. Treble denial of the tongue of flesh,

Like Peter's when he fell, and thou wilt have

To wail for it like Peter. O my son!

Are all oaths to be broken then, all promises

Made in our agony for help from heaven?

Son, there is one who loves thee: and a wife,

What matters who, so she be serviceable

In all obedience, as mine own hath been:

God bless thee, wedded daughter.

[_Laying his hand on the_ QUEEN'S _head_.

QUEEN. Bless thou too

That brother whom I love beyond the rest,

My banish'd Tostig.

EDWARD. All the sweet Saints bless him!

Spare and forbear him, Harold, if he comes!

And let him pass unscathed; he loves me, Harold!

Be kindly to the Normans left among us,

Who follow'd me for love! and dear son, swear

When thou art king, to see my solemn vow

Accomplish'd.

HAROLD. Nay, dear lord, for I have sworn

Not to swear falsely twice.

EDWARD. Thou wilt not swear?

HAROLD. I cannot.

EDWARD. Then on thee remains the curse,

Harold, if thou embrace her: and on thee,

Edith, if thou abide it,--

[_The_ KING _swoons;_ EDITH _falls and kneels by the couch_.

STIGAND. He hath swoon'd!

Death?... no, as yet a breath.

HAROLD. Look up! look up!

Edith!

ALDRED. Confuse her not; she hath begun

Her life-long prayer for thee.

ALDWYTH. O noble Harold,

I would thou couldst have sworn.

HAROLD. For thine own pleasure?

ALDWYTH. No, but to please our dying king, and those

Who make thy good their own--all England, Earl.

ALDRED. _I_ would thou couldst have sworn. Our holy king

Hath given his virgin lamb to Holy Church

To save thee from the curse.

HAROLD. Alas! poor man,

_His_ promise brought it on me.

ALDRED. O good son!

That knowledge made him all the carefuller

To find a means whereby the curse might glance

From thee and England.

HAROLD. Father, we so loved--

ALDRED. The more the love, the mightier is the prayer;

The more the love, the more acceptable

The sacrifice of both your loves to heaven.

No sacrifice to heaven, no help from heaven;

That runs thro' all the faiths of all the world.

And sacrifice there must be, for the king

Is holy, and hath talk'd with God, and seen

A shadowing horror; there are signs in heaven--

HAROLD. Your comet came and went.

ALDRED. And signs on earth!

Knowest thou Senlac hill?

HAROLD. I know all Sussex;

A good entrenchment for a perilous hour!

ALDRED. Pray God that come not suddenly! There is one

Who passing by that hill three nights ago--

He shook so that he scarce could out with it--

Heard, heard--

HAROLD. The wind in his hair?

ALDRED. A ghostly horn

Blowing continually, and faint battle-hymns,

And cries, and clashes, and the groans of men;

And dreadful shadows strove upon the hill,

And dreadful lights crept up from out the marsh--

Corpse-candles gliding over nameless graves--

HAROLD. At Senlac?

ALDRED. Senlac.

EDWARD (_waking_).

Senlac! Sanguelac,

The Lake of Blood!

STIGAND. This lightning before death

Plays on the word,--and Normanizes too!

HAROLD. Hush, father, hush!

EDWARD. Thou uncanonical fool,

Wilt _thou_ play with the thunder? North and South

Thunder together, showers of blood are blown

Before a never-ending blast, and hiss

Against the blaze they cannot quench--a lake,

A sea of blood--we are drown'd in blood--for God

Has fill'd the quiver, and Death has drawn the bow--

Sanguelac! Sanguelac! the arrow! the arrow! [_Dies_.

STIGAND. It is the arrow of death in his own heart--

And our great Council wait to crown thee King.

SCENE II.--IN THE GARDEN. THE KING'S HOUSE NEAR LONDON.

EDITH. Crown'd, crown'd and lost, crown'd King--and lost to me!

(_Singing_.)

Two young lovers in winter weather,

None to guide them,

Walk'd at night on the misty heather;

Night, as black as a raven's feather;

Both were lost and found together,

None beside them.

That is the burthen of it--lost and found

Together in the cruel river Swale

A hundred years ago; and there's another,

Lost, lost, the light of day,

To which the lover answers lovingly

'I am beside thee.'

Lost, lost, we have lost the way.

'Love, I will guide thee.'

Whither, O whither? into the river,

Where we two may be lost together,

And lost for ever? 'Oh! never, oh! never,

Tho' we be lost and be found together.'

Some think they loved within the pale forbidden

By Holy Church: but who shall say? the truth

Was lost in that fierce North, where _they_ were lost,

Where all good things are lost, where Tostig lost

The good hearts of his people. It is Harold!

_Enter_ HAROLD.

Harold the King!

HAROLD. Call me not King, but Harold.

EDITH. Nay, thou art King!

HAROLD. Thine, thine, or King or churl!

My girl, thou hast been weeping: turn not thou

Thy face away, but rather let me be

King of the moment to thee, and command

That kiss my due when subject, which will make

My kingship kinglier to me than to reign

King of the world without it.

EDITH. Ask me not,

Lest I should yield it, and the second curse

Descend upon thine head, and thou be only

King of the moment over England.

HAROLD. Edith,

Tho' somewhat less a king to my true self

Than ere they crown'd me one, for I have lost

Somewhat of upright stature thro' mine oath,

Yet thee I would not lose, and sell not thou

Our living passion for a dead man's dream;

Stigand believed he knew not what he spake.

Oh God! I cannot help it, but at times

They seem to me too narrow, all the faiths

Of this grown world of ours, whose baby eye

Saw them sufficient. Fool and wise, I fear

This curse, and scorn it. But a little light!--

And on it falls the shadow of the priest;

Heaven yield us more! for better, Woden, all

Our cancell'd warrior-gods, our grim Walhalla,

Eternal war, than that the Saints at peace

The Holiest of our Holiest one should be

This William's fellow-tricksters;--better die

Than credit this, for death is death, or else

Lifts us beyond the lie. Kiss me--thou art not

A holy sister yet, my girl, to fear

There might be more than brother in my kiss,

And more than sister in thine own.

EDITH. I dare not.

HAROLD. Scared by the church--'Love for a whole life long'

When was that sung?

EDITH. Here to the nightingales.

HAROLD. Their anthems of no church, how sweet they are!

Nor kingly priest, nor priestly king to cross

Their billings ere they nest.

EDITH. They are but of spring,

They fly the winter change--not so with us--

No wings to come and go.

HAROLD. But wing'd souls flying

Beyond all change and in the eternal distance

To settle on the Truth.

EDITH. They are not so true,

They change their mates.

HAROLD. Do they? I did not know it.

EDITH. They say thou art to wed the Lady Aldwyth.

HAROLD. They say, they say.

EDITH. If this be politic,

And well for thee and England--and for her--

Care not for me who love thee.

GURTH (_calling_). Harold, Harold!

HAROLD. The voice of Gurth! (_Enter_ GURTH.)

Good even, my good brother!

GURTH. Good even, gentle Edith.

EDITH. Good even, Gurth.

GURTH. Ill news hath come! Our hapless brother, Tostig--

He, and the giant King of Norway, Harold

Hardrada--Scotland, Ireland, Iceland, Orkney,

Are landed North of Humber, and in a field

So packt with carnage that the dykes and brooks

Were bridged and damm'd with dead, have overthrown

Morcar and Edwin.

HAROLD. Well then, we must fight.

How blows the wind?

GURTH. Against St. Valery

And William.

HAROLD. Well then, we will to the North.

GURTH. Ay, but worse news: this William sent to Rome,

Swearing thou swarest falsely by his Saints:

The Pope and that Archdeacon Hildebrand

His master, heard him, and have sent him back

A holy gonfanon, and a blessed hair

Of Peter, and all France, all Burgundy,

Poitou, all Christendom is raised against thee;

He hath cursed thee, and all those who fight for thee,

And given thy realm of England to the bastard.

HAROLD. Ha! ha!

EDITH. Oh! laugh not!... Strange and ghastly in the gloom

And shadowing of this double thunder-cloud

That lours on England--laughter!

HAROLD. No, not strange!

This was old human laughter in old Rome

Before a Pope was born, when that which reign'd

Call'd itself God.--A kindly rendering

Of 'Render unto Caesar.' ... The Good Shepherd!

Take this, and render that.

GURTH. They have taken York.

HAROLD. The Lord was God and came as man--the Pope

Is man and comes as God.--York taken?

GURTH. Yea,

Tostig hath taken York!

HAROLD. To York then. Edith,

Hadst thou been braver, I had better braved

All--but I love thee and thou me--and that

Remains beyond all chances and all churches,

And that thou knowest.

EDITH. Ay, but take back thy ring.

It burns my hand--a curse to thee and me.

I dare not wear it.

[_Proffers_ HAROLD _the ring, which he takes_.

HAROLD. But I dare. God with thee!

[_Exeunt_ HAROLD _and_ GURTH.

EDITH. The King hath cursed him, if he marry me;

The Pope hath cursed him, marry me or no!

God help me! I know nothing--can but pray

For Harold--pray, pray, pray--no help but prayer,

A breath that fleets beyond this iron world,

And touches Him that made it.

ACT IV.

SCENE I.--IN NORTHUMBRIA.

ARCHBISHOP ALDRED, MORCAR, EDWIN, _and_ FORCES. _Enter_ HAROLD.

_The standard of the golden Dragon of Wessex preceding him_.

HAROLD. What! are thy people sullen from defeat?

Our Wessex dragon flies beyond the Humber,

No voice to greet it.

EDWIN. Let not our great king

Believe us sullen--only shamed to the quick

Before the king--as having been so bruised

By Harold, king of Norway; but our help

Is Harold, king of England. Pardon us, thou!

Our silence is our reverence for the king!

HAROLD. Earl of the Mercians! if the truth be gall,

Cram me not thou with honey, when our good hive

Needs every sting to save it.

VOICES. Aldwyth! Aldwyth!

HAROLD. Why cry thy people on thy sister's name?

MORCAR. She hath won upon our people thro' her beauty,

And pleasantness among them.

VOICES. Aldwyth, Aldwyth!

HAROLD. They shout as they would have her for a queen.

MORCAR. She hath followed with our host, and suffer'd all.

HAROLD. What would ye, men?

VOICE. Our old Northumbrian crown,

And kings of our own choosing.

HAROLD. Your old crown

Were little help without our Saxon carles

Against Hardrada.

VOICE. Little! we are Danes,

Who conquer'd what we walk on, our own field.

HAROLD. They have been plotting here! [_Aside_.

VOICE. He calls us little!

HAROLD. The kingdoms of this world began with little,

A hill, a fort, a city--that reach'd a hand

Down to the field beneath it, 'Be thou mine,

Then to the next, 'Thou also!' If the field

Cried out 'I am mine own;' another hill

Or fort, or city, took it, and the first

Fell, and the next became an Empire.

VOICE. Yet

Thou art but a West Saxon: _we_ are Danes!

HAROLD. My mother is a Dane, and I am English;

There is a pleasant fable in old books,

Ye take a stick, and break it; bind a score

All in one faggot, snap it over knee,

Ye cannot.

VOICE. Hear King Harold! he says true!

HAROLD. Would ye be Norsemen?

VOICES. No!

HAROLD. Or Norman?

VOICES. No!

HAROLD. Snap not the faggot-band then.

VOICE. That is true!

VOICE. Ay, but thou art not kingly, only grandson

To Wulfnoth, a poor cow-herd.

HAROLD. This old Wulfnoth

Would take me on his knees and tell me tales

Of Alfred and of Athelstan the Great

Who drove you Danes; and yet he held that Dane,

Jute, Angle, Saxon, were or should be all

One England, for this cow-herd, like my father,

Who shook the Norman scoundrels off the throne,

Had in him kingly thoughts--a king of men,

Not made but born, like the great king of all,

A light among the oxen.

VOICE. That is true!

VOICE. Ay, and I love him now, for mine own father

Was great, and cobbled.

VOICE. Thou art Tostig's brother,

Who wastes the land.

HAROLD. This brother comes to save

Your land from waste; I saved it once before,

For when your people banish'd Tostig hence,

And Edward would have sent a host against you,

Then I, who loved my brother, bad the king

Who doted on him, sanction your decree

Of Tostig's banishment, and choice of Morcar,

To help the realm from scattering.

VOICE. King! thy brother,

If one may dare to speak the truth, was wrong'd.

Wild was he, born so: but the plots against him

Had madden'd tamer men.

MORCAR. Thou art one of those

Who brake into Lord Tostig's treasure-house

And slew two hundred of his following,

And now, when Tostig hath come back with power,

Are frighted back to Tostig.

OLD THANE. Ugh! Plots and feuds!

This is my ninetieth birthday. Can ye not

Be brethren? Godwin still at feud with Alfgar,

And Alfgar hates King Harold. Plots and feuds!

This is my ninetieth birthday!

HAROLD. Old man, Harold

Hates nothing; not _his_ fault, if our two houses

Be less than brothers.

VOICES. Aldwyth, Harold, Aldwyth!

HAROLD. Again! Morcar! Edwin! What do they mean?

EDWIN. So the good king would deign to lend an ear

Not overscornful, we might chance--perchance--

To guess their meaning.

MORCAR. Thine own meaning, Harold,

To make all England one, to close all feuds,

Mixing our bloods, that thence a king may rise

Half-Godwin and half-Alfgar, one to rule

All England beyond question, beyond quarrel.

HAROLD. Who sow'd this fancy here among the people?

MORCAR. Who knows what sows itself among the people?

A goodly flower at times.

HAROLD. The Queen of Wales?

Why, Morcar, it is all but duty in her

To hate me; I have heard she hates me.

MORCAR. No!

For I can swear to that, but cannot swear

That these will follow thee against the Norsemen,

If thou deny them this.

HAROLD. Morcar and Edwin,

When will you cease to plot against my house?

EDWIN. The king can scarcely dream that we, who know

His prowess in the mountains of the West,

Should care to plot against him in the North.

MORCAR. Who dares arraign us, king, of such a plot?

HAROLD. Ye heard one witness even now.

MORCAR. The craven!

There is a faction risen again for Tostig,

Since Tostig came with Norway--fright not love.

HAROLD. Morcar and Edwin, will ye, if I yield,

Follow against the Norseman?

MORCAR. Surely, surely!

HAROLD. Morcar and Edwin, will ye upon oath,

Help us against the Norman?

MORCAR. With good will;

Yea, take the Sacrament upon it, king.

HAROLD. Where is thy sister?

MORCAR. Somewhere hard at hand.

Call and she comes.

[_One goes out, then enter_ ALDWYTH.

HAROLD. I doubt not but thou knowest

Why thou art summon'd.

ALDWYTH. Why?--I stay with these,

Lest thy fierce Tostig spy me out alone,

And flay me all alive.

HAROLD. Canst thou love one

Who did discrown thine husband, unqueen thee?

Didst thou not love thine husband?

ALDWYTH. Oh! my lord,

The nimble, wild, red, wiry, savage king--

That was, my lord, a match of policy.

HAROLD. Was it?

I knew him brave: he loved his land: he fain

Had made her great: his finger on her harp

(I heard him more than once) had in it Wales,

Her floods, her woods, her hills: had I been his,

I had been all Welsh.

ALDWYTH. Oh, ay--all Welsh--and yet

I saw thee drive him up his hills--and women

Cling to the conquer'd, if they love, the more;

If not, they cannot hate the conqueror.

We never--oh! good Morcar, speak for us,

His conqueror conquer'd Aldwyth.

HAROLD. Goodly news!

MORCAR. Doubt it not thou! Since Griffith's

head was sent

To Edward, she hath said it.

HAROLD. I had rather

She would have loved her husband. Aldwyth, Aldwyth,

Canst thou love me, thou knowing where I love?

ALDWYTH. I can, my lord, for mine own sake, for thine,

For England, for thy poor white dove, who flutters

Between thee and the porch, but then would find

Her nest within the cloister, and be still.

HAROLD. Canst thou love one, who cannot love again?

ALDWYTH. Full hope have I that love will answer love.

HAROLD. Then in the name of the great God, so be it!

Come, Aldred, join our hands before the hosts,

That all may see.

[ALDRED _joins the hands of_ HAROLD _and_ ALDWYTH

_and blesses them_.

VOICES. Harold, Harold and Aldwyth!

HAROLD. Set forth our golden Dragon, let him flap

The wings that beat down Wales!

Advance our Standard of the Warrior,

Dark among gems and gold; and thou, brave banner,

Blaze like a night of fatal stars on those

Who read their doom and die.

Where lie the Norsemen? on the Derwent? ay

At Stamford-bridge.

Morcar, collect thy men; Edwin, my friend--

Thou lingerest.--Gurth,--

Last night King Edward came to me in dreams--

The rosy face and long down-silvering beard--

He told me I should conquer:--

I am no woman to put faith in dreams.

(To his army.)

Last night King Edward came to me in dreams,

And told me we should conquer.

VOICES. Forward! Forward!

Harold and Holy Cross!

ALDWYTH. The day is won!

SCENE II.--A PLAIN. BEFORE THE BATTLE OF STAMFORD-BRIDGE.

HAROLD _and his_ GUARD.

HAROLD. Who is it comes this way? Tostig?

(_Enter_ TOSTIG _with a small force_.) O brother,

What art thou doing here?

TOSTIG. I am foraging

For Norway's army.

HAROLD. I could take and slay thee.

Thou art in arms against us.

TOSTIG. Take and slay me,

For Edward loved me.

HAROLD. Edward bad me spare thee.

TOSTIG. I hate King Edward, for he join'd with thee

To drive me outlaw'd. Take and slay me, I say,

Or I shall count thee fool.

HAROLD. Take thee, or free thee,

Free thee or slay thee, Norway will have war;

No man would strike with Tostig, save for Norway.

Thou art nothing in thine England, save for Norway,

Who loves not thee but war. What dost thou here,

Trampling thy mother's bosom into blood?

TOSTIG. She hath wean'd me from it with such bitterness.

I come for mine own Earldom, my Northumbria;

Thou hast given it to the enemy of our house.

HAROLD. Northumbria threw thee off, she will not have thee,

Thou hast misused her: and, O crowning crime!

Hast murder'd thine own guest, the son of Orm,

Gamel, at thine own hearth.

TOSTIG. The slow, fat fool!

He drawl'd and prated so, I smote him suddenly,

I knew not what I did. He held with Morcar.--

I hate myself for all things that I do.

HAROLD. And Morcar holds with us. Come back with him.

Know what thou dost; and we may find for thee,

So thou be chasten'd by thy banishment,

Some easier earldom.

TOSTIG. What for Norway then?

He looks for land among us, he and his.

HAROLD. Seven feet of English land, or something more,

Seeing he is a giant.

TOSTIG. That is noble!

That sounds of Godwin.

HAROLD. Come thou back, and be

Once more a son of Godwin.

TOSTIG (_turns away_). O brother, brother,

O Harold--

HAROLD (_laying his hand on_ TOSTIG'S _shoulder_).

Nay then, come thou back to us!

TOSTIG (_after a pause turning to him_). Never

shall any man say that I, that Tostig

Conjured the mightier Harold from his North

To do the battle for me here in England,

Then left him for the meaner! thee!--

Thou hast no passion for the House of Godwin--

Thou hast but cared to make thyself a king--

Thou hast sold me for a cry.--

Thou gavest thy voice against me in the Council--

I hate thee, and despise thee, and defy thee.

Farewell for ever!

[_Exit_.

HAROLD. On to Stamford-bridge!

SCENE III.

AFTER THE BATTLE OF STAMFORD-BRIDGE. BANQUET.

HAROLD _and_ ALDWYTH. GURTH, LEOFWIN, MORCAR, EDWIN,

_and other_ EARLS _and_ THANES.

VOICES. Hail! Harold! Aldwyth! hail, bridegroom and bride!

ALDWYTH (_talking with_ HAROLD).

Answer them thou!

Is this our marriage-banquet? Would the wines

Of wedding had been dash'd into the cups

Of victory, and our marriage and thy glory

Been drunk together! these poor hands but sew,

Spin, broider--would that they were man's to have held

The battle-axe by thee!

HAROLD. There _was_ a moment

When being forced aloof from all my guard,

And striking at Hardrada and his madmen

I had wish'd for any weapon.

ALDWYTH. Why art thou sad?

HAROLD. I have lost the boy who play'd at ball with me,

With whom I fought another fight than this

Of Stamford-bridge.

ALDWYTH. Ay! ay! thy victories

Over our own poor Wales, when at thy side

He conquer'd with thee.

HAROLD. No--the childish fist

That cannot strike again.

ALDWYTH. Thou art too kindly.

Why didst thou let so many Norsemen hence?

Thy fierce forekings had clench'd their pirate hides

To the bleak church doors, like kites upon a barn.

HAROLD. Is there so great a need to tell thee why?

ALDWYTH. Yea, am I not thy wife?

VOICES. Hail, Harold, Aldwyth!

Bridegroom and bride!

ALDWYTH. Answer them! [_To_ HAROLD.

HAROLD (_to all_). Earls and Thanes!

Full thanks for your fair greeting of my bride!

Earls, Thanes, and all our countrymen! the day,

Our day beside the Derwent will not shine

Less than a star among the goldenest hours

Of Alfred, or of Edward his great son,

Or Athelstan, or English Ironside

Who fought with Knut, or Knut who coming Dane

Died English. Every man about his king

Fought like a king; the king like his own man,

No better; one for all, and all for one,

One soul! and therefore have we shatter'd back

The hugest wave from Norseland ever yet

Surged on us, and our battle-axes broken

The Raven's wing, and dumb'd his carrion croak

From the gray sea for ever. Many are gone--

Drink to the dead who died for us, the living

Who fought and would have died, but happier lived,

If happier be to live; they both have life

In the large mouth of England, till _her_ voice

Die with the world. Hail--hail!

MORCAR. May all invaders perish like Hardrada!

All traitors fail like Tostig. [_All drink but_ HAROLD.

ALDWYTH. Thy cup's full!

HAROLD. I saw the hand of Tostig cover it.

Our dear, dead, traitor-brother, Tostig, him

Reverently we buried. Friends, had I been here,

Without too large self-lauding I must hold

The sequel had been other than his league

With Norway, and this battle. Peace be with him!

He was not of the worst. If there be those

At banquet in this hall, and hearing me--

For there be those I fear who prick'd the lion

To make him spring, that sight of Danish blood

Might serve an end not English--peace with them

Likewise, if they can be at peace with what

God gave us to divide us from the wolf!

ALDWYTH (_aside to_ HAROLD).

Make not our Morcar sullen: it is not wise.

HAROLD. Hail to the living who fought, the dead who fell!

VOICES. Hail, hail!

FIRST THANE. How ran that answer which King Harold gave

To his dead namesake, when he ask'd for England?

LEOFWIN. 'Seven feet of English earth, or something more,

Seeing he is a giant!'

FIRST THANE. Then for the bastard

Six feet and nothing more!

LEOFWIN. Ay, but belike

Thou hast not learnt his measure.

FIRST THANE. By St. Edmund

I over-measure him. Sound sleep to the man

Here by dead Norway without dream or dawn!

SECOND THANE. What is he bragging still that he will come

To thrust our Harold's throne from under him?

My nurse would tell me of a molehill crying

To a mountain 'Stand aside and room for me!'

FIRST THANE. Let him come! let him come.

Here's to him, sink or swim! [_Drinks_.

SECOND THANE. God sink him!

FIRST THANE. Cannot hands which had the strength

To shove that stranded iceberg off our shores,

And send the shatter'd North again to sea,

Scuttle his cockle-shell? What's Brunanburg

To Stamford-bridge? a war-crash, and so hard,

So loud, that, by St. Dunstan, old St. Thor--

By God, we thought him dead--but our old Thor

Heard his own thunder again, and woke and came

Among us again, and mark'd the sons of those

Who made this Britain England, break the North:

Mark'd how the war-axe swang,

Heard how the war-horn sang,

Mark'd how the spear-head sprang,

Heard how the shield-wall rang,

Iron on iron clang,

Anvil on hammer bang--

SECOND THANE. Hammer on anvil, hammer on anvil. Old dog,

Thou art drunk, old dog!

FIRST THANE. Too drunk to fight with thee!

SECOND THANE. Fight thou with thine own double, not with me,

Keep that for Norman William!

FIRST THANE. Down with William!

THIRD THANE. The washerwoman's brat!

FOURTH THANE. The tanner's bastard!

FIFTH THANE.

The Falaise byblow!

[_Enter a_ THANE, _from Pevensey, spattered with mud_.

HAROLD. Ay, but what late guest,

As haggard as a fast of forty days,

And caked and plaster'd with a hundred mires,

Hath stumbled on our cups?

THANE _from Pevensey_. My lord the King!

William the Norman, for the wind had changed--

HAROLD. I felt it in the middle of that fierce fight

At Stamford-bridge. William hath landed, ha?

THANE _from Pevensey_. Landed at Pevensey--I am from Pevensey--

Hath wasted all the land at Pevensey--

Hath harried mine own cattle--God confound him!

I have ridden night and day from Pevensey--

A thousand ships--a hundred thousand men--

Thousands of horses, like as many lions

Neighing and roaring as they leapt to land--

HAROLD. How oft in coming hast thou broken bread?

THANE _from Pevensey_.

Some thrice, or so.

HAROLD. Bring not thy hollowness

On our full feast. Famine is fear, were it but

Of being starved. Sit down, sit down, and eat,

And, when again red-blooded, speak again;

(_Aside_.) The men that guarded England to the South

Were scatter'd to the harvest.... No power mine

To hold their force together.... Many are fallen

At Stamford-bridge ... the people stupid-sure

Sleep like their swine ... in South and North at once

I could not be.

(_Aloud_.) Gurth, Leofwin, Morcar, Edwin!

(_Pointing to the revellers_.)

The curse of England! these are drown'd in wassail,

And cannot see the world but thro' their wines!

Leave them! and thee too, Aldwyth, must I leave--

Harsh is the news! hard is our honeymoon!

Thy pardon. (_Turning round to his_ ATTENDANTS.)

Break the banquet up ... Ye four!

And thou, my carrier-pigeon of black news,

Cram thy crop full, but come when thou art call'd.

[_Exit_ HAROLD.

ACT V.

SCENE I.--A TENT ON A MOUND, FROM WHICH CAN BE SEEN THE FIELD OF

SENLAC.

HAROLD, _sitting; by him standing_ HUGH MARGOT _the Monk_, GURTH,

LEOFWIN,

HAROLD. Refer my cause, my crown to Rome!... The wolf

Mudded the brook and predetermined all.

Monk,

Thou hast said thy say, and had my constant 'No'

For all but instant battle. I hear no more.

MARGOT. Hear me again--for the last time. Arise,

Scatter thy people home, descend the hill,

Lay hands of full allegiance in thy Lord's

And crave his mercy, for the Holy Father

Hath given this realm of England to the Norman.

HAROLD. Then for the last time, monk, I ask again

When had the Lateran and the Holy Father

To do with England's choice of her own king?

MARGOT. Earl, the first Christian Caesar drew to the East

To leave the Pope dominion in the West

He gave him all the kingdoms of the West.

HAROLD. So!--did he?--Earl--I have a mind to play

The William with thine eyesight and thy tongue.

Earl--ay--thou art but a messenger of William.

I am weary--go: make me not wroth with thee!

MARGOT. Mock-king, I am the messenger of God,

His Norman Daniel! Mene, Mene, Tekel!

Is thy wrath Hell, that I should spare to cry,

Yon heaven is wroth with _thee?_ Hear me again!

Our Saints have moved the Church that moves the world,

And all the Heavens and very God: they heard--

They know King Edward's promise and thine--thine.

HAROLD. Should they not know free England crowns herself?

Not know that he nor I had power to promise?

Not know that Edward cancell'd his own promise?

And for my part therein--Back to that juggler,

[_Rising_.

Tell him the saints are nobler than he dreams,

Tell him that God is nobler than the Saints,

And tell him we stand arm'd on Senlac Hill,

And bide the doom of God.

MARGOT. Hear it thro' me.

The realm for which thou art forsworn is cursed,

The babe enwomb'd and at the breast is cursed,

The corpse thou whelmest with thine earth is cursed,

The soul who fighteth on thy side is cursed,

The seed thou sowest in thy field is cursed,

The steer wherewith thou plowest thy field is cursed,

The fowl that fleeth o'er thy field is cursed,

And thou, usurper, liar--

HAROLD. Out, beast monk!

[_Lifting his hand to strike him_. GURTH _stops the blow_.

I ever hated monks.

MARGOT. I am but a voice

Among you: murder, martyr me if ye will--

HAROLD. Thanks, Gurth! The simple, silent, selfless man

Is worth a world of tonguesters. (_To_ MARGOT.) Get thee gone!

He means the thing he says. See him out safe!

LEOFWIN. He hath blown himself as red as fire with curses.

An honest fool! Follow me, honest fool,

But if thou blurt thy curse among our folk,

I know not--I may give that egg-bald head

The tap that silences.

HAROLD. See him out safe.

[_Exeunt_ LEOFWIN _and_ MARGOT.

GURTH. Thou hast lost thine even temper, brother Harold!

HAROLD. Gurth, when I past by Waltham, my foundation

For men who serve the neighbour, not themselves,

I cast me down prone, praying; and, when I rose,

They told me that the Holy Rood had lean'd

And bow'd above me; whether that which held it

Had weaken'd, and the Rood itself were bound

To that necessity which binds us down;

Whether it bow'd at all but in their fancy;

Or if it bow'd, whether it symbol'd ruin

Or glory, who shall tell? but they were sad,

And somewhat sadden'd me.

GURTH. Yet if a fear,

Or shadow of a fear, lest the strange Saints

By whom thou swarest, should have power to balk

Thy puissance in this fight with him, who made

And heard thee swear--brother--_I_ have not sworn--

If the king fall, may not the kingdom fall?

But if I fall, I fall, and thou art king;

And, if I win, I win, and thou art king;

Draw thou to London, there make strength to breast

Whatever chance, but leave this day to me.

LEOFWIN (_entering_). And waste the land about thee as thou goest,

And be thy hand as winter on the field,

To leave the foe no forage.

HAROLD. Noble Gurth!

Best son of Godwin! If I fall, I fall--

The doom of God! How should the people fight

When the king flies? And, Leofwin, art thou mad?

How should the King of England waste the fields

Of England, his own people?--No glance yet

Of the Northumbrian helmet on the heath?

LEOFWIN. No, but a shoal of wives upon the heath,

And someone saw thy willy-nilly nun

Vying a tress against our golden fern.

HAROLD. Vying a tear with our cold dews, a sigh

With these low-moaning heavens. Let her be fetch'd.

We have parted from our wife without reproach,

Tho' we have dived thro' all her practices;

And that is well.

LEOFWIN. I saw her even now:

She hath not left us.

HAROLD. Nought of Morcar then?

GURTH. Nor seen, nor heard; thine, William's or his own

As wind blows, or tide flows: belike he watches,

If this war-storm in one of its rough rolls

Wash up that old crown of Northumberland.

HAROLD. I married her for Morcar--a sin against

The truth of love. Evil for good, it seems,

Is oft as childless of the good as evil

For evil.

LEOFWIN. Good for good hath borne at times

A bastard false as William.

HAROLD. Ay, if Wisdom

Pair'd not with Good. But I am somewhat worn,

A snatch of sleep were like the peace of God.

Gurth, Leofwin, go once more about the hill--

What did the dead man call it--Sanguelac,

The lake of blood?

LEOFWIN. A lake that dips in William

As well as Harold.

HAROLD. Like enough. I have seen

The trenches dug, the palisades uprear'd

And wattled thick with ash and willow-wands;

Yea, wrought at them myself. Go round once more;

See all be sound and whole. No Norman horse

Can shatter England, standing shield by shield;

Tell that again to all.

GURTH. I will, good brother.

HAROLD. Our guardsman hath but toil'd his hand and foot,

I hand, foot, heart and head. Some wine!

(_One pours wine into a goblet which he hands to_ HAROLD.)

Too much!

What? we must use our battle-axe to-day.

Our guardsmen have slept well, since we came in?

LEOFWIN. Ay, slept and snored. Your second-sighted man

That scared the dying conscience of the king,

Misheard their snores for groans. They are up again

And chanting that old song of Brunanburg

Where England conquer'd.

HAROLD. That is well. The Norman,

What is he doing?

LEOFWIN. Praying for Normandy;

Our scouts have heard the tinkle of their bells.

HAROLD. And our old songs are prayers for England too!

But by all Saints--

LEOFWIN. Barring the Norman!

HAROLD. Nay,

Were the great trumpet blowing doomsday dawn,

I needs must rest. Call when the Norman moves--

[_Exeunt all, but_ HAROLD.

No horse--thousands of horses--our shield wall--

Wall--break it not--break not--break-- [_Sleeps_.

VISION OF EDWARD. Son Harold, I thy king, who came before

To tell thee thou shouldst win at Stamford-bridge,

Come yet once more, from where I am at peace,

Because I loved thee in my mortal day,

To tell thee them shalt die on Senlac hill--

Sanguelac!

VISION OF WULFNOTH. O brother, from my ghastly oubliette

I send my voice across the narrow seas--

No more, no more, dear brother, nevermore--

Sanguelac!

VISION OF TOSTIG. O brother, most unbrotherlike to me,

Thou gavest thy voice against me in my life,

I give my voice against thee from the grave--

Sanguelac!

VISION OF NORMAN SAINTS. O hapless Harold!

King but for an hour!

Thou swarest falsely by our blessed bones,

We give our voice against thee out of heaven!

Sanguelac! Sanguelac! The arrow! the arrow!

HAROLD (_starting up, battle-axe in hand_.) Away!

My battle-axe against your voices. Peace!

The king's last word--'the arrow!' I shall die--

I die for England then, who lived for England--

What nobler? men must die.

I cannot fall into a falser world--

I have done no man wrong. Tostig, poor brother,

Art _thou_ so anger'd?

Fain had I kept thine earldom in thy hands

Save for thy wild and violent will that wrench'd

All hearts of freemen from thee. I could do

No other than this way advise the king

Against the race of Godwin. Is it possible

That mortal men should bear their earthly heats

Into yon bloodless world, and threaten us thence

Unschool'd of Death? Thus then thou art revenged--

I left our England naked to the South

To meet thee in the North. The Norseman's raid

Hath helpt the Norman, and the race of Godwin

Hath ruin'd Godwin. No--our waking thoughts

Suffer a stormless shipwreck in the pools

Of sullen slumber, and arise again

Disjointed: only dreams--where mine own self

Takes part against myself! Why? for a spark

Of self-disdain born in me when I sware

Falsely to him, the falser Norman, over

His gilded ark of mummy-saints, by whom

I knew not that I sware,--not for myself--

For England--yet not wholly--

_Enter_ EDITH.

Edith, Edith,

Get thou into thy cloister as the king

Will'd it: be safe: the perjury-mongering Count

Hath made too good an use of Holy Church

To break her close! There the great God of truth

Fill all thine hours with peace!--A lying devil

Hath haunted me--mine oath--my wife--I fain

Had made my marriage not a lie; I could not:

Thou art my bride! and thou in after years

Praying perchance for this poor soul of mine

In cold, white cells beneath an icy moon--

This memory to thee!--and this to England,

My legacy of war against the Pope

From child to child, from Pope to Pope, from age to age,

Till the sea wash her level with her shores,

Or till the Pope be Christ's.

_Enter_ ALDWYTH.

ALDWYTH (_to_ EDITH). Away from him!

EDITH. I will.... I have not spoken to the king

One word; and one I must. Farewell! [_Going_.

HAROLD. Not yet.

Stay.

EDITH. To what use?

HAROLD. The king commands thee, woman!

(_To_ ALDWYTH.)

Have thy two brethren sent their forces in?

ALDWYTH. Nay, I fear not.

HAROLD. Then there's no force in thee!

Thou didst possess thyself of Edward's ear

To part me from the woman that I loved!

Thou didst arouse the fierce Northumbrians!

Thou hast been false to England and to me!--

As ... in some sort ... I have been false to thee.

Leave me. No more--Pardon on both sides--Go!

ALDWYTH. Alas, my lord, I loved thee.

HAROLD (_bitterly_). With a love

Passing thy love for Griffyth! wherefore now

Obey my first and last commandment. Go!

ALDWYTH. O Harold! husband! Shall we meet again?

HAROLD. After the battle--after the battle. Go.

ALDWYTH. I go. (_Aside_.) That I could stab her standing there!

[_Exit_ ALDWYTH.

EDITH. Alas, my lord, she loved thee.

HAROLD. Never! never!

EDITH. I saw it in her eyes!

HAROLD. I see it in thine.

And not on thee--nor England--fall God's doom!

EDITH. On _thee?_ on me. And thou art England! Alfred

Was England. Ethelred was nothing. England

Is but her king, and thou art Harold!

HAROLD. Edith,

The sign in heaven--the sudden blast at sea--

My fatal oath--the dead Saints--the dark dreams--

The Pope's Anathema--the Holy Rood

That bow'd to me at Waltham--Edith, if

I, the last English King of England--

EDITH. No,

First of a line that coming from the people,

And chosen by the people--

HAROLD. And fighting for

And dying for the people--

EDITH. Living! living!

HAROLD. Yea so, good cheer! thou art Harold, I am Edith!

Look not thus wan!

EDITH. What matters how I look?

Have we not broken Wales and Norseland? slain,

Whose life was all one battle, incarnate war,

Their giant-king, a mightier man-in-arms

Than William.

HAROLD. Ay, my girl, no tricks in him--

No bastard he! when all was lost, he yell'd,

And bit his shield, and dash'd it on the ground,

And swaying his two-handed sword about him,

Two deaths at every swing, ran in upon us

And died so, and I loved him as I hate

This liar who made me liar. If Hate can kill,

And Loathing wield a Saxon battle-axe--

EDITH. Waste not thy might before the battle!

HAROLD. No,

And thou must hence. Stigand will see thee safe,

And so--Farewell. [_He is going, but turns back_.

The ring thou darest not wear.

I have had it fashion'd, see, to meet my hand.

[HAROLD _shows the ring which is on his finger_.

Farewell! [_He is going, but turns back again_.

I am dead as Death this day to ought of earth's

Save William's death or mine.

EDITH. Thy death!--to-day!

Is it not thy birthday?

HAROLD. Ay, that happy day!

A birthday welcome! happy days and many!

One--this! [_They embrace_.

Look, I will bear thy blessing into the battle

And front the doom of God.

NORMAN CRIES (_heard in the distance_).

Ha Rou! Ha Rou!

_Enter_ GURTH.

GURTH. The Norman moves!

HAROLD. Harold and Holy Cross!

[_Exeunt_ HAROLD _and_ GURTH.

_Enter_ STIGAND.

STIGAND. Our Church in arms--the lamb the lion--not

Spear into pruning-hook--the counter way--

Cowl, helm; and crozier, battle-axe. Abbot Alfwig,

Leofric, and all the monks of Peterboro'

Strike for the king; but I, old wretch, old Stigand,

With hands too limp to brandish iron--and yet

I have a power--would Harold ask me for it--

I have a power.

EDITH. What power, holy father?

STIGAND. Power now from Harold to command thee hence

And see thee safe from Senlac.

EDITH. I remain!

STIGAND. Yea, so will I, daughter, until I find

Which way the battle balance. I can see it

From where we stand: and, live or die, I would

I were among them!

CANONS _from Waltham (singing without)_.

Salva patriam

Sancte Pater,

Salva Fili,

Salva Spiritus,

Salva patriam,

Sancta Mater.[1]

[Footnote 1: The _a_ throughout these Latin hymns should be

sounded broad, as in 'father.']

EDITH. Are those the blessed angels quiring, father?

STIGAND. No, daughter, but the canons out of Waltham,

The king's foundation, that have follow'd him.

EDITH. O God of battles, make their wall of shields

Firm as thy cliffs, strengthen their palisades!

What is that whirring sound?

STIGAND. The Norman arrow!

EDITH. Look out upon the battle--is he safe?

STIGAND. The king of England stands between his banners.

He glitters on the crowning of the hill.

God save King Harold!

EDITH. --chosen by his people

And fighting for his people!

STIGAND. There is one

Come as Goliath came of yore--he flings

His brand in air and catches it again,

He is chanting some old warsong.

EDITH. And no David

To meet him?

STIGAND. Ay, there springs a Saxon on him,

Falls--and another falls.

EDITH. Have mercy on us!

STIGAND. Lo! our good Gurth hath smitten him to the death.

EDITH. So perish all the enemies of Harold!

CANONS (_singing_).

Hostis in Angliam

Ruit praedator,

Illorum, Domine,

Scutum scindatur!

Hostis per Angliae

Plagas bacchatur;

Casa crematur,

Pastor fugatur

Grex trucidatur--

STIGAND. Illos trucida, Domine.

EDITH. Ay, good father.

CANONS (_singing_).

Illorum scelera

Poena sequatur!

ENGLISH CRIES. Harold and Holy Cross! Out! out!

STIGAND. Our javelins

Answer their arrows. All the Norman foot

Are storming up the hill. The range of knights

Sit, each a statue on his horse, and wait.

ENGLISH CRIES. Harold and God Almighty!

NORMAN CRIES. Ha Rou! Ha Rou!

CANONS (_singing_).

Eques cum pedite

Praepediatur!

Illorum in lacrymas

Cruor fundatur!

Pereant, pereant,

Anglia precatur.

STIGAND. Look, daughter, look.

EDITH. Nay, father, look for me!

STIGAND. Our axes lighten with a single flash

About the summit of the hill, and heads

And arms are sliver'd off and splinter'd by

Their lightning--and they fly--the Norman flies.

EDITH. Stigand, O father, have we won the day?

STIGAND. No, daughter, no--they fall behind the horse--

Their horse are thronging to the barricades;

I see the gonfanon of Holy Peter

Floating above their helmets--ha! he is down!

EDITH. He down! Who down?

STIGAND. The Norman Count is down.

EDITH. So perish all the enemies of England!

STIGAND. No, no, he hath risen again--he bares his face--

Shouts something--he points onward--all their horse

Swallow the hill locust-like, swarming up.

EDITH. O God of battles, make his battle-axe keen

As thine own sharp-dividing justice, heavy

As thine own bolts that fall on crimeful heads

Charged with the weight of heaven wherefrom they fall!

CANONS (_singing_).

Jacta tonitrua

Deus bellator!

Surgas e tenebris,

Sis vindicator!

Fulmina, fulmina

Deus vastator!

EDITH. O God of battles, they are three to one,

Make thou one man as three to roll them down!

CANONS (_singing_).

Equus cum equite

Dejiciatur!

Acies, Acies

Prona sternatur!

Illorum lanceas

Frange Creator!

STIGAND. Yea, yea, for how their lances snap and shiver

Against the shifting blaze of Harold's axe!

War-woodman of old Woden, how he fells

The mortal copse of faces! There! And there!

The horse and horseman cannot meet the shield,

The blow that brains the horseman cleaves the horse,

The horse and horseman roll along the hill,

They fly once more, they fly, the Norman flies!

Equus cum equite

Praecipitatur.

EDITH. O God, the God of truth hath heard my cry.

Follow them, follow them, drive them to the sea!

Illorum scelera

Poena sequatur!

STIGAND. Truth! no; a lie; a trick, a Norman trick!

They turn on the pursuer, horse against foot,

They murder all that follow.

EDITH. Have mercy on us!

STIGAND. Hot-headed fools--to burst the wall of shields!

They have broken the commandment of the king!

EDITH. His oath was broken--O holy Norman Saints,

Ye that are now of heaven, and see beyond

Your Norman shrines, pardon it, pardon it,

That he forsware himself for all he loved,

Me, me and all! Look out upon the battle!

STIGAND. They thunder again upon the barricades.

My sight is eagle, but the strife so thick--

This is the hottest of it: hold, ash! hold, willow!

ENGLISH CRIES. Out, out!

NORMAN CRIES. Ha Rou!

STIGAND. Ha! Gurth hath leapt upon him

And slain him: he hath fallen.

EDITH. And I am heard.

Glory to God in the Highest! fallen, fallen!

STIGAND. No, no, his horse--he mounts another--wields

His war-club, dashes it on Gurth, and Gurth,

Our noble Gurth, is down!

EDITH. Have mercy on us!

STIGAND. And Leofwin is down!

EDITH. Have mercy on us!

O Thou that knowest, let not my strong prayer

Be weaken'd in thy sight, because I love

The husband of another!

NORMAN CRIES. Ha Rou! Ha Rou!

EDITH. I do not hear our English war-cry.

STIGAND. No.

EDITH. Look out upon the battle--is he safe?

STIGAND. He stands between the banners with the dead

So piled about him he can hardly move.

EDITH (_takes up the war-cry_).

Out! out!

NORMAN CRIES. Ha Rou!

EDITH (_cries out_). Harold and Holy Cross!

NORMAN CRIES. Ha Rou! Ha Rou!

EDITH. What is that whirring sound?

STIGAND. The Norman sends his arrows up to Heaven,

They fall on those within the palisade!

EDITH. Look out upon the hill--is Harold there?

STIGAND. Sanguelac--Sanguelac--the arrow--the arrow!--away!

SCENE II--FIELD OF THE DEAD. NIGHT.

ALDWYTH _and_ EDITH.

ALDWYTH. O Edith, art thou here? O Harold, Harold--

Our Harold--we shall never see him more.

EDITH. For there was more than sister in my kiss,

And so the saints were wroth. I cannot love them,

For they are Norman saints--and yet I should--

They are so much holier than their harlot's son

With whom they play'd their game against the king!

ALDWYTH, The king is slain, the kingdom over-thrown!

EDITH. No matter!

ALDWYTH. How no matter, Harold slain?--

I cannot find his body. O help me thou!

O Edith, if I ever wrought against thee,

Forgive me thou, and help me here!

EDITH. No matter!

ALDWYTH. Not help me, nor forgive me?

EDITH. So thou saidest.

ALDWYTH. I say it now, forgive me!

EDITH. Cross me not!

I am seeking one who wedded me in secret.

Whisper! God's angels only know it. Ha!

What art thou doing here among the dead?

They are stripping the dead bodies naked yonder,

And thou art come to rob them of their rings!

ALDWYTH. O Edith, Edith, I have lost both crown

And husband.

EDITH. So have I.

ALDWYTH. I tell thee, girl,

I am seeking my dead Harold.

EDITH. And I mine!

The Holy Father strangled him with a hair

Of Peter, and his brother Tostig helpt;

The wicked sister clapt her hands and laugh'd;

Then all the dead fell on him.

ALDWYTH. Edith, Edith--

EDITH. What was he like, this husband? like to thee?

Call not for help from me. I knew him not.

He lies not here: not close beside the standard.

Here fell the truest, manliest hearts of England.

Go further hence and find him.

ALDWYTH. She is crazed!

EDITH. That doth not matter either. Lower the light.

He must be here.

_Enter two_ CANONS, OSGOD _and_ ATHELRIC, _with

torches. They turn over the dead bodies and

examine them as they pass_.

OSGOD. I think that this is Thurkill.

ATHELRIC. More likely Godric.

OSGOD. I am sure this body

Is Alfwig, the king's uncle.

ATHELRIC. So it is!

No, no--brave Gurth, one gash from brow to knee!

OSGOD. And here is Leofwin.

EDITH. And here is _He!_

ALDWYTH. Harold? Oh no--nay, if it were--my God,

They have so maim'd and murder'd all his face

There is no man can swear to him.

EDITH. But one woman!

Look you, we never mean to part again.

I have found him, I am happy.

Was there not someone ask'd me for forgiveness?

I yield it freely, being the true wife

Of this dead King, who never bore revenge.

_Enter_ COUNT WILLIAM _and_ WILLIAM MALET.

WILLIAM. Who be these women? And what body is this?

EDITH. Harold, thy better!

WILLIAM. Ay, and what art thou?

EDITH. His wife!

MALET. Not true, my girl, here is the Queen!

[_Pointing out_ ALDWYTH.

WILLIAM (_to_ ALDWYTH).

Wast thou his Queen?

ALDWYTH. I was the Queen of Wales.

WILLIAM. Why then of England. Madam, fear us not.

(_To_ MALET.) Knowest thou this other?

MALET. When I visited England,

Some held she was his wife in secret--some--

Well--some believed she was his paramour.

EDITH. Norman, thou liest! liars all of you,

Your Saints and all! I am his wife! and she--

For look, our marriage ring!

[_She draws it off the finger of_ HAROLD.

I lost it somehow--

I lost it, playing with it when I was wild.

_That_ bred the doubt! but I am wiser now ...

I am too wise.... Will none among you all

Bear me true witness--only for this once--

That I have found it here again? [_She puts it on_.

And thou,

Thy wife am I for ever and evermore.

[_Falls on the body and dies_.

WILLIAM. Death!--and enough of death for this one day,

The day of St. Calixtus, and the day,

My day when I was born.

MALET. And this dead king's

Who, king or not, hath kinglike fought and fallen,

His birthday, too. It seems but yestereven

I held it with him in his English halls,

His day, with all his rooftree ringing 'Harold,'

Before he fell into the snare of Guy;

When all men counted Harold would be king,

And Harold was most happy.

WILLIAM. Thou art half English

Take them away!

Malet, I vow to build a church to God

Here on the hill of battle; let our high altar

Stand where their standard fell ... where these two lie.

Take them away, I do not love to see them.

Pluck the dead woman off the dead man, Malet!

MALET. Faster than ivy. Must I hack her arms off?

How shall I part them?

WILLIAM. Leave them. Let them be!

Bury him and his paramour together.

He that was false in oath to me, it seems

Was false to his own wife. We will not give him

A Christian burial: yet he was a warrior,

And wise, yea truthful, till that blighted vow

Which God avenged to-day.

Wrap them together in a purple cloak

And lay them both upon the waste sea-shore

At Hastings, there to guard the land for which

He did forswear himself--a warrior--ay,

And but that Holy Peter fought for us,

And that the false Northumbrian held aloof,

And save for that chance arrow which the Saints

Sharpen'd and sent against him--who can tell?--

Three horses had I slain beneath me: twice

I thought that all was lost. Since I knew battle,

And that was from my boyhood, never yet--

No, by the splendour of God--have I fought men

Like Harold and his brethren, and his guard

Of English. Every man about his king

Fell where he stood. They loved him: and, pray God

My Normans may but move as true with me

To the door of death. Of one self-stock at first,

Make them again one people--Norman, English;

And English, Norman; we should have a hand

To grasp the world with, and a foot to stamp it ...

Flat. Praise the Saints, It is over. No more blood!

I am king of England, so they thwart me not,

And I will rule according to their laws.

(_To_ ALDWYTH.) Madam, we will entreat thee with all honour.

ALDWYTH. My punishment is more than I can bear.

End of Project Gutenberg's Queen Mary and Harold, by Alfred Lord Tennyson