_The action passes in the first half of the Thirteenth Century._
_Present_: Skule; Jatgeir _the Skald_, _an Icelander_; Paul Flida, _a
nobleman_.
[Footnote 51: From the translation of "The Pretenders" by William
Archer.]
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 be kind to it--'tis not that I mean; but _love_ it,
love it with the warmest passion of her soul.
_Jatgeir_--That can only those women do 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 passion?
_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_ [_looking 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 a like shyness; therefore I do not strip me
when there are many in the hall.
_King Skule_--Hm. [_A short pause._] Tell me, Jatgeir, how came you to
be a skald? Who taught you skaldcraft?
_Jatgeir_--Skaldcraft can not be taught, my lord.
_King Skule_--Can not be taught? How came it then?
_Jatgeir_--I got the gift of sorrow, 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 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 lodgings. The townsmen whisper
together secretly, and laugh mockingly, and ask if we be well assured
that King Hakon is in the west land: 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 we did you homage; they say it boded ill.
_King Skule_--When next I come to Nidaros the shrine shall out! It
shall stand under the open sky, tho I should have to tear down St.
Olaf's church and widen 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 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 Hakon's kingly thought-child, love it with the
warmest passion of my soul. Oh that I could but adopt 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 forego all? Can I stand by and see Hakon 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 can not 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?
_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_]--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 I were saved!
_Jatgeir_--Trust in yourself and you will be saved!
_Paul Flida_ [_enters hastily_]--King Skule, look to yourself! Hakon
Hakonsson 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._]