Chapter III: Part 3

[_Smiling._] Great deeds are born with every hour in these times;
yesterday thou didst slay my foster-brother, and I have woven this
since daybreak.

GUNNAR.

Hiördis, Hiördis!

HIÖRDIS.

[_Looking up._] What is amiss?

GUNNAR.

Where wast thou last night?

HIÖRDIS.

Last night?

GUNNAR.

Thou wast not in the sleeping-room.

HIÖRDIS.

Know’st thou that?

GUNNAR.

I could not sleep; I tossed in restless dreams of that—that which
befell Thorolf. I dreamt that he came——No matter; I wakened. Then
methought there sounded a strange, fair song through all the house;
I arose; I pushed the door ajar; here I saw thee sitting by the
log-fire—it burned blue and red—fixing arrow-heads, and singing
sorceries over them.

HIÖRDIS.

I did what was needful; for strong is the breast that must be
pierced this day.

GUNNAR.

I understand thee well: thou wouldst have Sigurd slain.

HIÖRDIS.

Mayhap.

GUNNAR.

Thou shalt never have thy will. I will keep peace with Sigurd,
howe’er thou goad me.

HIÖRDIS.

[_Smiling._] Dost think so?

GUNNAR.

I know it!

HIÖRDIS.

[_Hands him the bow-string._] Tell me, Gunnar—canst loose this knot?

GUNNAR.

[_Tries it._] Nay, it is too cunningly and firmly woven.

HIÖRDIS.

[_Rising._] The Norns[14] weave yet more cunningly; their web is
still harder to unravel.

GUNNAR.

Dark are the ways of the Mighty Ones;—what know we of them, thou or
I?

HIÖRDIS.

Yet one thing I know surely: that to both of us must Sigurd’s life
be baleful.

[_A pause;_ GUNNAR _stands lost in thought._

HIÖRDIS.

[_Who has been silently watching him._] Of what thinkest thou?

GUNNAR.

Of a dream I had of late. Methought I had done the deed thou
cravest; Sigurd lay slain on the earth; thou didst stand beside him,
and thy face was wondrous pale. Then said I: “Art thou glad, now
that I have done thy will?” But thou didst laugh and answer:
“Blither should I be didst thou, Gunnar, lie there in Sigurd’s
stead.”

HIÖRDIS.

[_With forced laughter._] Ill must thou know me if such a senseless
dream can stay thy hand.

GUNNAR.

Tell me, Hiördis, what thinkest thou of this hall?

HIÖRDIS.

To speak truly, Gunnar, sometimes it seems to me too strait and
narrow.

GUNNAR.

Ay, ay, so I have thought; we are one too many.

HIÖRDIS.

Two, mayhap.

GUNNAR.

[_Who has not heard her last words._] But that shall be set right.

HIÖRDIS.

[_Looks at him interrogatively._] Set right? Then thou art minded
to——?

GUNNAR.

To fit out my warships and put to sea; I will win back the honour I
have lost because thou wast dearer to me than all beside.

HIÖRDIS.

[_Thoughtfully._] Thou wilt put to sea? Ay, so it may be best for us
both.

GUNNAR.

Even from the day we sailed from Iceland, I saw that it would go ill
with us. Thy soul is strong and proud; there are times when I
well-nigh fear thee; yet, it is strange—chiefly for that do I hold
thee so dear. Dread goes forth from thee like a spell; methinks thou
couldst lure me to the blackest deeds, and all would seem good to me
that thou didst crave. [_Shaking his head reflectively._]
Unfathomable is the Norn’s rede; Sigurd should have been thy
husband.

HIÖRDIS.

[_Vehemently._] Sigurd!

GUNNAR.

Yes, Sigurd. Vengeance and hatred blind thee, else wouldst thou
prize him better. Had I been like Sigurd, I could have made life
glad for thee.

HIÖRDIS.

[_With strong but suppressed emotion._] That—that deemest thou
Sigurd could have done?

GUNNAR.

He is strong of soul, and proud as thou to boot.

HIÖRDIS.

[_Violently._] If that be so—[_Collecting herself._] No matter, no
matter! [_With a wild outburst._] Gunnar, take Sigurd’s life!

GUNNAR.

Never!

HIÖRDIS.

By fraud and falsehood thou mad’st me thy wife—that shall be
forgotten! Five joyless years have I spent in this house—all shall
be forgotten from the day when Sigurd lives no more!

GUNNAR.

No harm shall e’er befall him from my hand. [_Shrinks back
involuntarily._] Hiördis, Hiördis, tempt me not!

HIÖRDIS.

Then must I find another avenger; not long shall Sigurd mock at me
and thee! [_Clenching her hands in convulsive rage._] With her—that
simpleton—with her mayhap he is even now sitting alone, dallying,
and making sport of us; speaking of the bitter wrong that was done
me when in thy stead he bore me away; telling how he laughed over
his guile as he stood in the mirk of my bower, and I knew him not!

GUNNAR.

Nay, nay, he does not so!

HIÖRDIS.

[_Firmly._] Sigurd and Dagny must die! I cannot draw breath till
they two are gone! [_Comes close up to him, with sparkling eyes, and
speaks passionately, but in a whisper._] Wouldst thou help me to
_that_, Gunnar, then should I live in love with thee; then should I
clasp thee in such warm and wild embraces as thou dream’st not of.

GUNNAR.

[_Wavering._] Hiördis! Wouldst thou——?

HIÖRDIS.

Set thy hand to the work, Gunnar—and the heavy days shall be past.
No longer will I quit the hall when thou comest, no longer speak
harsh things and quench thy smile when thou art glad. I will clothe
me in furs and costly silken robes. When thou goest to war, I will
follow thee; when thou ridest forth in peace, I will ride by thy
side. At the feast I will sit by thee and fill thy horn, and drink
to thee and sing fair songs to make glad thy heart!

GUNNAR.

[_Almost overcome._] Is it true? Thou wouldst——

HIÖRDIS.

More than that, trust me, ten times more! Give me but revenge!
Revenge on Sigurd and Dagny, and I will——[_Stops as she sees the
door open._] Dagny—comest thou here!

DAGNY.

[_From the back._] Haste thee, Gunnar! Call thy men to arms!

GUNNAR.

To arms! Against whom?

DAGNY.

Kåre the Peasant is coming, and many outlaws with him; he means thee
no good; Sigurd has once barred his way; but who can tell——

GUNNAR.

[_Moved._] Sigurd has done this for me!

DAGNY.

Sigurd is ever thy faithful friend.

GUNNAR.

And we, Hiördis—we, who thought to——! It is as I say—there is
witchcraft in all thy speech; no deed but seemeth fair to me, when
thou dost name it.

DAGNY.

[_Astonished._] What meanest thou?

GUNNAR.

Nothing, nothing! I thank thee for thy tidings, Dagny; I go to
gather my men together. [_Turns towards the door, but stops and
comes forward again._] Tell me—how goes it with Örnulf?

DAGNY.

[_Bowing her head._] Ask not of him. Yesterday he bore Thorolf’s
body to the ships; now he is raising a grave-mound on the
shore;—there shall his sons be laid.

[GUNNAR _goes out by the back in silence._

DAGNY.

Until evening there is no danger. [_Coming nearer._] Hiördis, I have
another errand in thy house; it is to thee I come.

HIÖRDIS.

To me? After all that befell yesterday?

DAGNY.

Even because of that. Hiördis, foster-sister, do not hate me; forget
the words that sorrow and evil spirits placed in my mouth; forgive
me all the wrong I did thee; for, trust me, I am now tenfold more
hapless than thou!

HIÖRDIS.

Hapless—thou! Sigurd’s wife!

DAGNY.

It was _my_ doing, all that befell—the stirring up of strife, and
Thorolf’s death, and all the scorn that fell upon Gunnar and thee.
Mine is all the guilt! Woe upon me!—I have lived so happily; but
after this day I shall never know joy again.

HIÖRDIS.

[_As if seized by a sudden thought._] But before—in these five long
years—all that time hast thou been happy?

DAGNY.

Canst thou doubt it?

HIÖRDIS.

Yesterday I doubted it not; but——

DAGNY.

What meanest thou?

HIÖRDIS.

Nay, ’tis nought; let us speak of other matters.

DAGNY.

No truly. Hiördis, tell me——!

HIÖRDIS.

It will profit thee little; but since thou wilt have it so——[_With a
malignant expression._] Canst thou remember once, over in Iceland—we
had followed with Örnulf thy father to the Council, and we sat with
our playmates in the Council Hall, as is the manner of women. Then
came two strangers into the hall.

DAGNY.

Sigurd and Gunnar.

HIÖRDIS.

They greeted us in courtly fashion, and sat on the bench beside us;
and there passed between us much merry talk. There were some who
must needs know why these two vikings came thither, and if they were
not minded to take them wives there in the island. Then said Sigurd:
“Twill be hard for me to find the woman that shall be to my mind.”
Örnulf laughed, and said there was no lack of high-born and
well-dowered women in Iceland; but Sigurd answered: “The warrior
needs a high-souled wife. She whom I choose must not rest content
with a humble lot; no honour must seem too high for her to strive
for; gladly must she follow me a-viking; war-weed must she wear; she
must egg me on to strife, and never blink her eyes where
sword-blades lighten; for if she be faint-hearted, scant honour will
befall me.” Is it not true, so Sigurd spake?

DAGNY.

[_Hesitatingly._] True, he did—but——

HIÖRDIS.

_Such_ was she to be, the woman who could make life fair to him; and
then—[With a scornful smile] then he chose _thee_!

DAGNY.

[_Starting, as in pain._] Ha, thou wouldst say that——?

HIÖRDIS.

Doubtless thou hast proved thyself proud and high-souled; hast
claimed honour of all, that Sigurd might be honoured in thee—is it
not so?

DAGNY.

Nay, Hiördis, but——

HIÖRDIS.

Thou hast egged him on to great deeds, followed him in war-weed, and
joyed to be where the strife raged hottest—hast thou not?

DAGNY.

[_Deeply moved._] No, no!

HIÖRDIS.

Hast thou, then, been faint of heart, so that Sigurd has been put to
shame?

DAGNY.

[_Overwhelmed._] Hiördis, Hiördis!

HIÖRDIS.

[_Smiling scornfully._] Yet thy lot has been a happy one all these
years! Think’st thou that Sigurd can say the same?

DAGNY.

Enough, enough. Woe is me! thou hast made me see myself too clearly.

HIÖRDIS.

A jesting word, and straightway thou art in tears! Think no more of
it. Look what I have done to-day. [_Takes some arrows from the
table._] Are they not keen and biting—feel! I know well how to
sharpen arrows, do I not?

DAGNY.

And to use them too; thou strikest surely, Hiördis! All this thou
hast said to me—I had never thought of it before. [_More
vehemently._] But that Sigurd——! That for all these years I should
have made his life heavy and unhonoured;—no, no, it cannot be true!

HIÖRDIS.

Nay now, comfort thee, Dagny; indeed it is not true. Were Sigurd of
the same mind as in former days, it might be true enough; for then
was his whole soul bent on being the foremost man in the land;—now
he is content with a lowlier lot.

DAGNY.

No, Hiördis; Sigurd is high-souled now as ever; I see it well, I am
not the right mate for him. He has hidden it from me; but it shall
be so no longer.

HIÖRDIS.

What wilt thou do?

DAGNY.

I will no longer hang like a clog upon his feet; I will be a
hindrance to him no longer.

HIÖRDIS.

Then thou wilt——?

DAGNY.

Peace; some one comes!

_A House-carl enters from the back._

THE CARL.

Sigurd Viking is coming to the hall.

HIÖRDIS.

Sigurd! Then call Gunnar hither.

THE CARL.

Gunnar has ridden forth to gather his neighbours together; for Kåre
the Peasant would——

HIÖRDIS.

Good, good, I know it; go! [_The Carl goes. To_ DAGNY, _who is also
going._] Whither wilt thou?

DAGNY.

I will not meet Sigurd. Too well I feel that we must part; but to
meet him _now_—no, no, I cannot!

[_Goes out to the left._

HIÖRDIS.

[_Looks after her in silence for a moment._] And it was she I would
have——[_Completes her thought by a glance at the bow-string_]. That
had been a poor revenge;—nay, I have cut deeper now! —Tis hard to
die, but sometimes harder still to live!

SIGURD _enters from the back._

HIÖRDIS.

Belike it is Gunnar thou seekest; be seated, he will be here even
now.

[_Is going._

SIGURD.

Nay, stay; it is thee I seek, rather than him.

HIÖRDIS.

Me?

SIGURD.

And ’tis well I find thee alone.

HIÖRDIS.

If thou comest to mock me, it would sure be no hindrance to thee
though the hall were full of men and women.

SIGURD.

Ay, ay, well I know what thoughts thou hast of me.

HIÖRDIS.

[_Bitterly._] I do thee wrong mayhap! Nay, nay, Sigurd, thou hast
been as a poison to all my days. Bethink thee who it was that
wrought that shameful guile; who it was that sat by my side in the
bower, feigning love, with the laugh of cunning in his heart; who it
was that flung me forth to Gunnar, since for him I was good enough,
forsooth—and then sailed away with the woman he held dear!

SIGURD.

Man’s will can do this thing and that; but fate rules in the deeds
that shape our lives—so has it gone with us twain.

HIÖRDIS.

True enough; evil Norns hold sway over the world; but their might is
little if they find not helpers in our own heart. Happy is he who
has strength to battle with the Norn—and it is that I have now in
hand.

SIGURD.

What mean’st thou?

HIÖRDIS.

I will venture a trial of strength against those—those who are over
me. But let us talk no more of this; I have much to do to-day.

[_She seats herself at the table._

SIGURD.

[_After a short pause._] Thou makest good weapons for Gunnar.

HIÖRDIS.

[_With a quiet smile._] Not _for_ Gunnar, but _against_ thee.
SIGURD.

Most like it is the same thing.

HIÖRDIS.

Ay, most like it is; for if I be a match for the Norn, then sooner
or later shalt thou and Gunnar——[_Breaks off, leans backwards
against the table, looks at him with a smile, and says with an
altered ring in her voice:_] Wouldst know the thought that sometimes
comes to me? Oft have I made it my pastime to limn pleasant pictures
in my mind; at such times I sit and close my eyes and think: Now
comes Sigurd the Strong to the isle;—he will burn us in our house,
me and my husband. All Gunnar’s men have fallen; only he and I are
left; they set light to the roof from without:—“A bow-shot,” cries
Gunnar, “one bow-shot may save us”;—then the bow-string
breaks—“Hiördis, cut a tress of thy hair and make of it a
bow-string—our life is at stake.” But then I laugh—“Let it burn, let
it burn—to me, life is not worth a wisp of hair!”

SIGURD.

There is a strange might in all thy speech.

[_Approaches her._

HIÖRDIS.

[_Looks coldly at him._] Wouldst sit beside me?

SIGURD.

Thou deemest my heart is bitter toward thee. ’Tis the last time,
Hiördis, that we shall have speech together; there is something that
gnaws me like a sore sickness, and in this wise I cannot part from
thee; thou must know me better.

HIÖRDIS.

What wouldst thou?

SIGURD.

Tell thee a saga.

HIÖRDIS.

Is it sad?

SIGURD.

Sad, as life itself.

HIÖRDIS.

[_Bitterly._] What knowest thou of the sadness of life?

SIGURD.

Judge when my saga is over.

HIÖRDIS.

Then tell it me; I will work the while.

[_He sits on a low stool to her right._

SIGURD.

Once upon a time there were two young vikings, who set forth from
Norway to win wealth and honour; they had sworn each other
friendship, and held truly together, how far soever they might fare.

HIÖRDIS.

And the two young vikings hight Sigurd and Gunnar?

SIGURD.

Ay, we may call them so. At last they came to Iceland; and there
dwelt an old chieftain, who had come forth from Norway in King
Harald’s days. He had two fair women in his house; but one, his
foster-daughter, was the noblest, for she was wise and strong of
soul; and the vikings spoke of her between themselves, and never had
they seen a fairer woman, so deemed they both.

HIÖRDIS.

[_In suspense._] Both? Wilt thou mock me?

SIGURD.

Gunnar thought of her night and day, and that did Sigurd no less;
but both held their peace, and no man could say from her bearing
whether Gunnar found favour in her eyes; but that Sigurd found none,
that was easy to discern.

HIÖRDIS.

[_Breathlessly._] Go on, go on——!

SIGURD.

Yet ever the more must Sigurd dream of her; but of that wist no man.
Now it befell one evening that there was a drinking-feast; and there
did that proud woman vow that no man should possess her save he who
wrought a mighty deed, which she named. Then high beat Sigurd’s
heart for joy; for he felt within him the strength to do that deed.
But Gunnar took him apart and told him of his love;—Sigurd said
nought of his, but went to the——

HIÖRDIS.

[_Vehemently._] Sigurd, Sigurd! [_Controlling herself._] And this
saga—is it true?

SIGURD.

True it is. One of us had to yield; Gunnar was my friend; I could do
nought else. So Gunnar had thee to wife, and I wedded another woman.

HIÖRDIS.

And didst come to love her!

SIGURD.

I learned to prize her; but one woman only has Sigurd loved, and
that is she who frowned upon him from the first day they met.
[_Rises._] Here ends my saga; and now let us part.—Farewell,
Gunnar’s wife; never shall we meet again.

HIÖRDIS.

[_Springing up._] Stay, stay! Woe to us both; Sigurd, what hast thou
done?

SIGURD.

[_Starting._] I, done? What ails thee?

HIÖRDIS.

And all this dost thou tell me now! But no—it cannot be true!

SIGURD.

These are my last words to thee, and every word is true. I would not
thou shouldst think hardly of me, therefore I needs must speak.

HIÖRDIS.

[_Involuntarily clasps her hands together, and gazes at him in
voiceless astonishment._] Loved—loved me—thou! [_Vehemently, coming
close up to him._] I will not believe thee! [_Looks hard at him, and
bursts forth in wild grief._] Yes, it is true, and—hateful for us
both!

[_Hides her face in her hands, and turns away from him._

SIGURD.

[_Appalled._] Hiördis!

HIÖRDIS.

[_Softly, struggling with tears and laughter._] Nay, heed me not! I
meant but this, that——[_Lays her hand on his arm._] Sigurd, thou
hast not told thy saga to the end; that proud woman thou didst tell
of—she returned thy love!

SIGURD.

[_Starts backwards._] Thou?

HIÖRDIS.

[_With composure._] Aye, Sigurd, I have loved thee, at last I
understand it. Thou sayest I was ungentle and short of speech
towards thee; what wouldst thou have a woman do? Could I offer thee
my love? Then had I been little worthy of thee. I deemed thee ever
the noblest man of men; and then to know thee another’s
husband—’twas that caused me the bitter pain, that myself I could
not understand!

SIGURD.

[_Much moved._] A baleful web has the Norn woven around us twain.

HIÖRDIS.

The blame is thine own; bravely and firmly it becomes a man to act.
When I set that hard proof for him who should win me, my thought was
all of thee;—yet couldst thou——!

SIGURD.

I knew Gunnar’s soul-sickness; I alone could heal it;—was there
aught for me to choose? And yet, had I known what I now know, I
scarce dare answer for myself; for great is the might of love.

HIÖRDIS.

[_With animation._] But now, Sigurd!—A baleful hap has held us apart
all these years; now the knot is loosed; the days to come shall make
good the past to us.

SIGURD.

[_Shaking his head._] It cannot be; thou knowest we must part again.

HIÖRDIS.

Nay, we must not. I love thee, that may I now say unashamed; for my
love is no mere dalliance, like a weak woman’s; were I a man—by all
the Mighty Ones, I could still love thee, even as now I do! Up then,
Sigurd! Happiness is worth a daring deed; we are both free if we but
will it, and then the game is won.

SIGURD.

Free? What meanest thou?

HIÖRDIS.

What is Dagny to thee? What can she be to thee? No more than I count
Gunnar in my secret heart. What matter though two worthless lives be
wrecked?

SIGURD.

Hiördis, Hiördis!

HIÖRDIS.

Let Gunnar stay where he is; let Dagny fare with her father to
Iceland; I will follow thee in harness of steel, whithersoever thou
wendest. [SIGURD _makes a movement._] Not as thy wife will I follow
thee; for I have belonged to another, and the woman lives that has
lain by thy side. No, Sigurd, not as thy wife, but like those mighty
women, like Hildë’s sisters,[15] will I follow thee, and fire thee
to strife and to manly deeds, so that thy name shall be heard over
every land. In the sword-game will I stand by thy side; I will fare
forth among thy warriors in the storm and on the viking-raid; and
when thy death-song is sung, it shall tell of Sigurd and Hiördis in
one!

SIGURD.

Once was that my fairest dream; now, it is too late. Gunnar and
Dagny stand between us, and that by right. I crushed my new-born
love for Gunnar’s sake;—how great soever my suffering, I cannot undo
my deed. And Dagny—full of faith and trust she left her home and
kindred; never must she dream that I longed for Hiördis as often as
she took me to her breast.

HIÖRDIS.

And for such a cause wilt thou lay a burden on all thy life! To what
end hast thou strength and might, and therewith all noble gifts of
the mind? And deemest thou it can now beseem me to dwell beneath
Gunnar’s roof? Nay, Sigurd, trust me, there are many tasks awaiting
such a man as thou. Erik is king in Norway—do thou rise against him!
Many goodly warriors will join thee and swear thee fealty; with
unconquerable might will we press onward, and fight and toil
unresting, until thou art seated on the throne of Hårfager!

SIGURD.

Hiördis, Hiördis, so have I dreamt in my wild youth; let it be
forgotten—tempt me not!

HIÖRDIS.

[_With dignity._] It is the Norn’s will that we two shall hold
together; it cannot be altered. Plainly now I see my task in life:
to make thee famous over all the world. Thou hast stood before me
every day, ever hour of my life; I sought to tear thee out of my
mind, but I lacked the might; now it is needless, now that I know
thou lovest me.

SIGURD.

[_With forced coldness._] If that be so—then know—I _have_ loved
thee; it has passed now;—I have forgot those days.

HIÖRDIS.

Sigurd, in that thou liest! So much at least am I worth, that if
thou hast loved me once, thou canst never forget it.

SIGURD.

[_Vehemently._] I must; and now I will.

HIÖRDIS.

So be it; but thou _canst_ not. Thou wilt seek to hinder me, but in
vain; ere evening falls, Gunnar and Dagny shall know all.

SIGURD.

Ha, that wilt thou never do!

HIÖRDIS.

That will I do!

SIGURD.

Then must I know thee ill; high-souled have I ever deemed thee.

HIÖRDIS.

Evil days breed evil thoughts; too great has been thy trust in me. I
will, I must, go forth by thy side—forth to face life and strife;
Gunnar’s roof-tree is too low for me.

SIGURD.

[_With emphasis._] But honour between man and man hast thou highly
prized. There lack not grounds for strife between me and Gunnar;
say, now, that he fell by my hand—wouldst thou still make all known
and follow me?

HIÖRDIS.

[_Starting._] Wherefore askest thou?

SIGURD.

Answer me first: what wouldst thou do, were I to give thy husband
his bane.

HIÖRDIS.

[_Looks hard at him._] Then must I keep silence and never rest until
I had seen thee dead.

SIGURD.

[_With a smile._] It is well, Hiördis—I knew it.

HIÖRDIS.

[_Hastily._] But it can never come to pass!

SIGURD.

It must come to pass; thou thyself hast cast the die even now for
Gunnar’s life and mine.

[GUNNAR, _with some House-carls, enters from the back._

GUNNAR.

[_Gloomily, to_ HIÖRDIS.] See now; the seed thou hast sown is
sprouting!

SIGURD.

[_Approaching._] What is amiss with thee?

GUNNAR.

Sigurd, is it thou? What is amiss? Nought but what I might well have
foreseen. As soon as Dagny, thy wife, had brought tidings of Kåre
the Peasant, I took horse and rode to my neighbours to seek help
against him.

HIÖRDIS.

[_Eagerly._] Well?

GUNNAR.

I was answered awry where’er I came: my dealings with Kåre had been
little to my honour, it was said;—aye, and other things were said to
boot, that I will not utter—I am a dishonoured man; I am thought to
have done a dastard deed; men hold it shame to make common cause
with me.

SIGURD.

It shall not long be held shame; ere evening comes, thou shalt have
men enough to face Kåre.

GUNNAR.

Sigurd!

HIÖRDIS.

[_In a low voice, triumphantly._] Ha, I knew it well!

SIGURD.

[_With forced resolution._] But thereafter is the peace between us
at an end; for hearken to my words, Gunnar Headman—thou hast slain
Thorolf, my wife’s kinsman, and therefore do I challenge thee to
single combat[16] to-morrow at break of day.

[HIÖRDIS, _in violent inward emotion, makes a stride
towards_ SIGURD, _but collects herself and remains
standing motionless during the following._

GUNNAR.

[_In extreme astonishment._] To single combat——! Me!—Thou art
jesting, Sigurd!

SIGURD.

Thou art lawfully challenged to single combat; ’twill be a game for
life or death; one of us must fall!

GUNNAR.

[_Bitterly._] Ha, I understand it well. When I came, thou didst talk
with Hiördis alone; she has goaded thee afresh!

SIGURD.

Mayhap. [_Half towards_ HIÖRDIS.] A high-souled woman must ever
guard her husband’s honour. [_To the men in the background._] And do
ye, house-carls, now go to Gunnar’s neighbours, and say to them that
to-morrow he is to ply sword-strokes with me; none dare call that
man a dastard who bears arms against Sigurd Viking!

[_The House-carls go out by the back._

GUNNAR.

[_Goes quickly up to_ SIGURD _and presses his hands, in strong
emotion._] Sigurd, my brave brother, now I understand thee! Thou
venturest thy life for my honour, as of old for my happiness!

SIGURD.

Thank thy wife for that; she has the main part in what I do.
To-morrow at break of day——

GUNNAR.

I will meet thee. [_Tenderly._] Foster-brother, wilt thou have a
good blade of me? ’Tis a gift of price.

SIGURD.

I thank thee; but let it hang.—Who knows if next evening I may have
any use for it.

GUNNAR.

[_Shakes his hand._] Farewell, Sigurd!

SIGURD.

Again farewell, and fortune befriend thee this night!

[_They part._ GUNNAR _goes out to the right._ SIGURD _casts
a glance at_ HIÖRDIS, _and goes out by the back._

HIÖRDIS.

[_After a pause, softly and thoughtfully._] To-morrow they fight!
Which will fall? [_After a moment’s silence, she bursts forth as if
seized by a strong resolution._] Let fall who will—Sigurd and I
shall still be together!

ACT FOURTH.

_By the coast. It is evening; the moon breaks forth now and again,
from among dark and ragged storm-clouds. At the back, a black
grave-mound, newly heaped up._

ÖRNULF _sits on a stone, in front on the right, his head bare, his
elbows resting on his knees, and his face buried in his hands.
His men are digging at the mound; some give light with
pine-knot torches. After a short pause,_ SIGURD _and_ DAGNY
_enter from the boat-house, where a wood fire is burning._

DAGNY.

[_In a low voice._] There sits he still. [_Holding_ SIGURD _back._]
Nay, speak not to him.

SIGURD.

Thou say’st well; it is too soon; best leave him to himself.

DAGNY.

[_Goes over to the right, and gazes at her father in quiet sorrow._]
So strong was he yesterday when he bore Thorolf’s body on his back;
strong was he as he helped to heap the grave-mound; but when they
were all laid to rest, and earth and stones piled over them—then the
sorrow seized him; then seemed it of a sudden as though his fire
were quenched. [_Dries her tears._] Tell me, Sigurd, when thinkest
thou to fare homeward to Iceland?

SIGURD.

So soon as the storm abates, and my dealings with Gunnar are ended.

DAGNY.

And then wilt thou buy land and build thee a homestead, and go
a-viking no more?

SIGURD.

Yes, yes,—that have I promised thee.

DAGNY.

And I may believe without doubt that Hiördis spoke falsely when she
said that I was unworthy to be thy wife?

SIGURD.

Yes yes, Dagny, trust thou to my word.

DAGNY.

Then am I glad again, and will try to forget all the evil that here
has been wrought. In the long winter evenings we will talk together
of Gunnar and Hiördis, and——

SIGURD.

Nay, Dagny, wouldst thou have things go well with us, never do thou
speak Hiördis’ name when once we are at home in Iceland.

DAGNY.

[_Mildly upbraiding him._] Unjust is thy hatred towards her. Sigurd,
Sigurd, it is little like thee.

ONE OF THE MEN.

[_Approaching._] There now, the mound is finished.

ÖRNULF.

[_As if awaking._] The mound? Is it—ay, ay——

SIGURD.

Now speak to him, Dagny.

DAGNY.

[_Approaching._] Father, it is cold out here; the storm is rising
with the night.

ÖRNULF.

Nay, never heed it; the mound is close-heaped and crannyless; they
lie warm in there.

DAGNY.

Ay, but thou——

ÖRNULF.

I? I am not cold.

DAGNY.

Nought hast thou eaten to-day; wilt thou not go in? The supper-board
stands ready.

ÖRNULF.

Let the supper-board stand; I have no hunger.

DAGNY.

But to sit here so still—trust me, thou wilt take hurt of it; thou
art ever wont to be stirring.

ÖRNULF.

May be so; there is somewhat that crushes my breast; I cannot draw
breath.

[_He again hides his face in his hands. A pause._ DAGNY
_seats herself beside him._

DAGNY.

To-morrow wilt thou make ready thy ship and set forth for Iceland?

ÖRNULF.

[_Without looking up._] What should I do there? Nay, I will to my
sons.

DAGNY.

[_With pain._] Father!

ÖRNULF.

[_Raises his head._] Go in and let me sit here; when the storm has
played with me for a night or two, the game will be over, I ween.

SIGURD.

Thou canst not think to deal thus with thyself.

ÖRNULF.

Dost marvel that I fain would rest? My day’s work is done; I have
laid my sons in their grave-mound. [_Vehemently._] Go from me!—Go,
go!

[_He hides his face._

SIGURD.

[_Softly, to_ DAGNY_, who rises._] Let him sit yet awhile.

DAGNY.

Nay, I have one rede yet untried;—I know him. [_To_ ÖRNULF.] Thy
day’s work done, say’st thou? Nay, that it is not. Thou hast laid
thy sons in the grave;—but art thou not a skald? It is meet that
thou should’st sing their memory.

ÖRNULF.

[_Shaking his head._] Sing? Nay, nay; yesterday I could sing; I am
too old to-day.

DAGNY.

But needs must thou; honourable men were thy sons, one and all; a
song must be made of them, and that can none of our kin but thou.

ÖRNULF.

[_Looks inquiringly at_ SIGURD.] To sing? What thinkest _thou_,
Sigurd?

SIGURD.

Meseems it is but meet; thou must e’en do as she says.

DAGNY.

Thy neighbours in Iceland will deem it ill done when the grave-ale
is drunk over Örnulf’s children, and there is no song to sing with
it. Thou hast ever time enough to follow thy sons.

ÖRNULF.

Well well, I will try it; and thou, Dagny, give heed, that
afterwards thou mayst carve the song on staves.

_The men approach with the torches, forming a group around
him; he is silent for a time, reflecting; then he says:_

Bragi’s[17] gift is bitter
when the heart is broken;
sorrow-laden singer,
singing, suffers sorely.

Natheless, since the Skald-god
gave me skill in song-craft,
in a lay loud-ringing
be my loss lamented!
[_Rises._

Ruthless Norn[18] and wrathful
wrecked my life and ravaged,
wiled away my welfare,
wasted Örnulf’s treasure.

Sons had Örnulf seven,
by the great gods granted;—
lonely now and life-sick
goes the greybeard, sonless.

Seven sons so stately,
bred among the sword-blades,
made a mighty bulwark
round the snow-locked sea-king.

Levelled lies the bulwark,
dead my sons strong-hearted;
gone the greybeard’s gladness,
desolate his dwelling.

Thorolf,—thou my last-born!
’Mongst the bold the boldest!
Soon were spent my sorrow
so but thou wert left me!

Fair thou wast as springtide,
fond towards thy father,
waxing straight and stalwart
to so wight a warrior.

Dark and drear his death-wound
leaves my life’s lone evening;
grief hath gripped my bosom
as ’twixt hurtling targes.

Nought the Norn denied me
of her rueful riches,
showering woes unstinted
over Örnulf’s world-way.

Weak are now my weapons.
But, were god-might given me,
_one_ thing would I strive for—
on the Norn to venge me!

_One_ thing would I toil for—
down to death to hurl thee,
Norn, that now hast left me
nought but yonder grave-mound.

Nought, I said? Nay, truly,
somewhat still is Örnulf’s,
since of Suttung’s[19] mead-horn
he betimes drank deeply.
[_With rising enthusiasm._

Though she stripped me sonless,
one great gift she gave me—
songcraft’s mighty secret,
skill to sing my sorrows.

On my lips she laid it,
goodly gift of songcraft;
loud, then, let my lay sound,
e’en where they are lying!

Hail, my stout sons seven!
Hail, as homeward ride ye!
Songcraft’s glorious god-gift
stauncheth woe and wailing.

[_He draws a deep breath, throws back the hair from his
brow, and says calmly:_

So—so; now is Örnulf sound and strong again. [_To the men._] Follow
me to the supper-board, lads; heavy has been our day’s work!

[_Goes with the men into the boat-house._

DAGNY.

Praised be the Mighty Ones on high that gave me so good a rede.
[_To_ SIGURD.] Wilt thou not go in?

SIGURD.

Nay, I list not to. Tell me, are all things ready for to-morrow?

DAGNY.

They are ready; a silk-sewn shroud lies on the bench; but I know
full surely that thou wilt hold thee against Gunnar, so I have not
wept over it.

SIGURD.

Grant all good powers, that thou mayst never weep for my sake.

[_He stops and looks out._

DAGNY.

What art thou listening to?

SIGURD.

Hear’st thou nought—_yonder_?

[_Points towards the left._

DAGNY.

Ay, there goes a fearsome storm over the sea!

SIGURD.

[_Going up a little towards the background._] There will fall hard
hailstones in that storm. [_Shouts._] Who comes?

KÅRE THE PEASANT.

[_Without on the left._] Folk thou wotst of, Sigurd Viking!

KÅRE THE PEASANT, _with a band of armed men, enters from the left._

SIGURD.

Whither would ye?

KÅRE.

To Gunnar’s hall.

SIGURD.

As foemen?

KÅRE.

Ay, trust me for that! Thou didst hinder me before; but now I ween
thou wilt scarce do the like.

SIGURD.

Maybe not.

KÅRE.

I have heard of thy challenge to Gunnar; but if things go to my
mind, weak will be his weapons when the time comes for your meeting.

SIGURD.

’Tis venturesome work thou goest about; take heed for thyself,
Peasant!

KÅRE.

[_With defiant laughter._] Leave that to me; wouldst thou tackle thy
ship to-night, we will see that thou hast light enow!—Come, all my
men; here goes the way.

[_They go off to the right, at the back._

DAGNY.

Sigurd, Sigurd, this misdeed must thou hinder.

SIGURD.

[_Goes quickly to the door of the hut, and calls in._] Up from the
board, Örnulf; take vengeance on Kåre the Peasant.

ÖRNULF.

[_Comes out, with the rest._] Kåre the Peasant—where is he?

SIGURD.

He is making for Gunnar’s hall to burn it over their heads.

ÖRNULF.

Ha-ha—let him do as he will; so shall I be avenged on Gunnar and
Hiördis, and afterwards I can deal with Kåre.

SIGURD.

Nay, that rede avails not; wouldst thou strike at Kåre, thou must
seek him out to-night; for when his misdeed is done, he will take to
the mountains. I have challenged Gunnar to meet me, man to man; him
thou hast safe enough, unless I myself—but no matter.—To-night he
must be shielded from his foes; it would ill befit thee to let so
vile a caitiff as Kåre rob thee of thy revenge.

ÖRNULF.

Thou say’st truly. To-night will I shield the slayer of Thorolf; but
to-morrow he must die.

SIGURD.

He or I—doubt not of that!

ÖRNULF.

Come then, to take vengeance for Örnulf’s sons.

[_He goes out with his men by the back, to the right._

SIGURD.

Dagny, do thou follow them;—I must bide here; for the rumour of the
combat is already abroad, and I may not meet Gunnar ere the time
comes. But thou—do thou keep rein on thy father; he must go
honourably to work; in Gunnar’s hall there are many women; no harm
must befall Hiördis or the rest.

DAGNY.

Yes, I will follow them. Thou takest thought even for Hiördis; I
thank thee for it.

SIGURD.

Go, go, Dagny!

DAGNY.

I go; but be thou at ease as to Hiördis; she has gilded armour in
her bower, and will know how to shield herself.

SIGURD.

That deem I too; but go thou nevertheless; guide thy father’s
course; watch over all—and over Gunnar’s wife!

DAGNY.

Trust to me. Farewell, till we meet again!

[_She follows the others._

SIGURD.

’Tis the first time, foster-brother, that I stand weaponless
whilst thou art in danger. [_Listens._] I hear shouts and
sword-strokes;—they are already at the hall. [_Goes towards the
right, but stops and recoils in astonishment._] Hiördis! Comes she
hither!

HIÖRDIS _enters, clad in a short scarlet kirtle, with gilded armour:
helmet, hauberk, arm-plates, and greaves. Her hair is flying
loose; at her back hangs a quiver, and at her belt a small
shield. She has in her hand the bow strung with her hair._

HIÖRDIS.

[_Hastily looking behind her, as though in dread of something
pursuing her, goes close up to_ SIGURD, _seizes him by the arm, and
whispers:_] Sigurd, Sigurd, canst thou see it?

SIGURD.

What? Where?

HIÖRDIS.

The wolf _there_—close behind me; it does not move; it glares at me
with its two red eyes. It is my wraith,[20] Sigurd! Three times has
it appeared to me; that bodes that I shall surely die to-night!

SIGURD.

Hiördis, Hiördis!

HIÖRDIS.

It has sunk into the earth! Aye, aye, now it has warned me.

SIGURD.

Thou art sick; come, go in with me.

HIÖRDIS.

Nay, here will I bide; I have but little time left.

SIGURD.

What has befallen thee?

HIÖRDIS.

What has befallen? That know I not; but ’twas true what thou said’st
to-day, that Gunnar and Dagny stand between us; we must away from
them and from life; then can we be together!

SIGURD.

We? Ha, thou meanest——

HIÖRDIS.

[_With dignity._] I have been homeless in this world from that day
thou didst take another to wife. That was ill done of thee! All good
gifts may a man give to his faithful friend—all, save the woman he
loves; for if he do that, he rends the Norn’s secret web, and two
lives are wrecked. An unerring voice within me tells me I came into
the world that my strong soul might cheer and uphold thee through
heavy days, and that thou wert born to the end I might find in _one_
man all that seemed to me great and noble; for this I know
Sigurd—had we two held together, then hadst thou become more famous
than all others, and I happier.

SIGURD.

It avails not now to mourn. Think’st thou ’tis a merry life that
awaits me? To be by Dagny’s side day by day, and feign a love my
heart shrinks from? Yet so it must be; it cannot be altered.

HIÖRDIS.

[_In a growing frenzy._] It _shall_ be altered! We must out of this
life, both of us! Seest thou this bow-string? With it can I surely
hit my mark; for I have crooned fair sorceries over it! [_Places an
arrow in the bow, which is strung._] Hark! hark! that rushing in the
air? It is the dead men’s ride to Valhal: I have bewitched them
hither;—we two will join them in their ride!

SIGURD.

[_Shrinking back._] Hiördis, Hiördis—I fear thee!

HIÖRDIS.

[_Not heeding him._] Our fate no power can alter now! Oh, ’tis
better so than if thou hadst wedded me here in this life—if I had
sat in thy homestead weaving linen and wool for thee and bearing
thee children—pah!

SIGURD.

Hold, hold! Thy sorceries have been too strong for thee; they have
made thee soul-sick, Hiördis! [_Horror-struck._] Ha, see—see!
Gunnar’s hall—it is burning!

HIÖRDIS.

Let it burn, let it burn! The cloud-hall up yonder is loftier than
Gunnar’s rafter-roof!

SIGURD.

But Egil, thy son—they are slaying him!

HIÖRDIS.

Let him die—my shame dies with him!

SIGURD.

And Gunnar—they are taking thy husband’s life!

HIÖRDIS.

What care I! A better husband shall I follow home this night! Ay,
Sigurd, so must it be; here on this earth grows no happiness for me.
The White God is coming northward; him will I not meet; the old gods
are strong no longer;—they sleep, they sit half shadow-like on
high;—with them will we strive! Out of this life, Sigurd! I will
enthrone thee king in heaven, and I myself will sit by thy side.
[_The storm bursts wildly._] Hark, hark, here comes our company!
Canst see the black steeds galloping?—one is for me and one for
thee. [_Draws the arrow to her ear and shoots._] Away, then, on thy
last ride home!

SIGURD.

Well aimed, Hiördis! [_He falls._

HIÖRDIS.

[_Jubilant, rushes up to him._] Sigurd, my brother,—now art thou
mine at last!

SIGURD.

Now less than ever. Here our ways part; for I am a Christian man.

HIÖRDIS.

[_Appalled._] Thou——! Ha, no, no!

SIGURD.

The White God is mine; King Æthelstan taught me to know him; it is
to _him_ I go.

HIÖRDIS.

[_In despair._] And I——! [_Drops her bow._] Woe! woe!

SIGURD.

Heavy has my life been from the hour I tore thee out of my own heart
and gave thee to Gunnar. I thank thee, Hiördis;—now am I so light
and free.

[_Dies._

HIÖRDIS.

[_Quietly._] Dead! Then truly have I brought my soul to wreck! [_The
storm increases; she breaks forth wildly._] They come! I have
bewitched them hither! No, no! I will not go with you! I will not
ride without Sigurd! It avails not—they see me; they laugh and
beckon to me; they spur their horses! [_Rushes out to the edge of
the cliff at the back._] They are upon me;—and no shelter, no
hiding-place! Ay, mayhap at the bottom of the sea!

[_She casts herself over._

[ÖRNULF, DAGNY, GUNNAR, _with_ EGIL, _gradually followed by_
SIGURD’S _and_ ÖRNULF’S _men, enter from the right._

ÖRNULF.

[_Turning towards the grave-mound._] Now may ye sleep in peace; for
ye lie not unavenged.

DAGNY.

[_Entering._] Father, father—I die of fear—all that blood and
strife—and the storm;—hark, hark!

GUNNAR.

[_Carrying_ EGIL.] Peace, and shelter for my child.

ÖRNULF.

Gunnar!

GUNNAR.

Ay, Örnulf, my homestead is burnt and my men are slain; I am in thy
power; do with me what thou wilt!

ÖRNULF.

That Sigurd must look to. But in, under roof! It is not safe out
here.

DAGNY.

Ay, ay, in! [_Goes towards the boat-house, catches sight of_
SIGURD’S _body, and shrieks._] Sigurd, my husband!—They have slain
him!

[_Throwing herself upon him._

ÖRNULF.

[_Rushes up._] Sigurd!

GUNNAR.

[_Sets_ EGIL _down._] Sigurd dead!

DAGNY.

[_Looks despairingly at the men, who surround the body._] No, no, it
is not so;—he must be alive! [_Catches sight of the bow._] Ha, what
is that?

[_Rises._

ÖRNULF.

Daughter, it is as first thou saidst—Sigurd is slain.

GUNNAR.

[_As if seized by a sudden thought._] And Hiördis!—Has Hiördis been
here?

DAGNY.

[_Softly and with self-control._] I know not; but this I know, that
her bow has been here.

GUNNAR.

Ay, I thought no less!

DAGNY.

Hush, hush! [_To herself._] So bitterly did she hate him!

GUNNAR.

[_Aside._] She has slain him—the night before the combat; then after
all she loved me.

[_A thrill of dread runs through the whole group;_
ASGÅRDSREIEN—_the ride of the fallen warriors to
Valhal—hurtles through the air._

EGIL.

[_In terror._] Father! See, see!

GUNNAR.

What is it?

EGIL.

Up there—all the black horses——!

GUNNAR.

It is the clouds that——

ÖRNULF.

Nay, it is the dead men’s home-faring.

EGIL.

[_With a shriek._] Mother is with them.

DAGNY.

All good spirits!

GUNNAR.

Child, what say’st thou?

EGIL.

There—in front—on the black horse! Father, father!

[EGIL _clings in terror to his father; a short pause; the
storm passes over, the clouds part, the moon shines
peacefully on the scene._

GUNNAR.

[_In quiet sorrow._] Now is Hiördis surely dead.

ÖRNULF.

So it must be, Gunnar;—and my vengeance was rather against her than
thee. Dear has this meeting been to both of us;—there is my hand; be
there peace between us!

GUNNAR.

Thanks, Örnulf! And now aboard; I sail with thee to Iceland.

ÖRNULF.

Ay, to Iceland! Long will it be ere our forthfaring is forgotten.

Weapon-wielding warriors’ meeting,
woful, by the norland seaboard,
still shall live in song and saga
while our stem endures in Iceland.

THE END

-----

Footnote 7:

Failing to find a better equivalent for the Norwegian “Herse,” I
have used the word “Headman” wherever it seemed necessary to give
Gunnar a title or designation. He is generally spoken of as
“Gunnar Herse” in the Norwegian text; but where it could be done
without inconvenience, the designation has here been omitted.

Footnote 8:

“I ærlig holmgang.” The established form of duel in the viking
times was to land the combatants on one of the rocky islets or
“holms” that stud the Norwegian coast, and there let them fight it
out. Hence “holmgang”=duel.

Footnote 9:

“At knæsætte” = to knee-set a child, to take it on one’s knee, an
irrevocable form of adoption.

Footnote 10:

The giants or Titans of Scandinavian mythology.

Footnote 11:

Breastplate.

Footnote 12:

“Draugen,” a vague and horrible sea-monster.

Footnote 13:

Literally the “blood-night.”

Footnote 14:

The “Nornir” were the Fates of northern mythology.

Footnote 15:

The Valkyries.

Footnote 16:

Holmgang—see note, p. 19.

Footnote 17:

Bragi, the god of poetry and eloquence.

Footnote 18:

See note, p. 72.

Footnote 19:

Suttung was a giant who kept guard over the magic mead of poetical
inspiration.

Footnote 20:

The word “wraith” is here used in an obviously inexact sense; but
the wraith seemed to be the nearest equivalent in English
mythology to the Scandinavian “fylgie,” an attendant spirit, often
regarded as a sort of emanation from the person it accompanied,
and sometimes (as in this case) typifying that person’s moral
attributes.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

THE PRETENDERS
(1863)

CHARACTERS.

HÅKON HÅKONSSON, _the King elected by the Birchlegs._
INGA OF VARTEIG, _his mother._
EARL SKULE.
LADY RAGNHILD, _his wife._
SIGRID, _his sister._
MARGRETE, _his daughter._
GUTHORM INGESSON.
SIGURD RIBBUNG.
NICHOLAS ARNESSON, _Bishop of Oslo._
DAGFINN THE PEASANT, _Håkon’s marshal._
IVAR BODDE, _his chaplain._
VEGARD VÆRADAL, _one of his guard._
GREGORIUS JONSSON, _a nobleman._
PAUL FLIDA, _a nobleman._
INGEBORG, _Andres Skialdarband’s wife._
PETER, _her son, a young priest._
SIRA VILIAM, _Bishop Nicholas’s chaplain._
MASTER SIGARD OF BRABANT, _a physician._
JATGEIR SKALD,_ an Icelander._
BÅRD BRATTE, _a chieftain from the Trondhiem district._
_Populace and Citizens of Bergen, Oslo, and Nidaros._
_Priests, Monks, and Nuns._
_Guests, Guards, and Ladies._
_Men-at-Arms, etc. etc._

_The action passes in the first half of the Thirteenth Century._

_Pronunciation of Names_: Håkon=Hoakoon (“oa” as in “board”);
Skule=Skoolë; Margrete=Margraytë; Guthorm=Gootorm; Sigurd
Ribbung=Sigoord Ribboong; Dagfinn (“a” as in “hard”); Ivar
Bodde=Eevar Boddë; Vegard=Vaygard; Jonsson=Yoonson; Flida=Fleeda;
Ingeborg=Ingheborg; Jatgeir=Yatgheir; Bård Bratte=Board Brattë. The
name “Ingeborg” appears as “Ingebjörg” in Ibsen’s text. The form I
have substituted is equally current in Norway, and less troublesome
to pronounce.

THE PRETENDERS.
HISTORIC PLAY IN FIVE ACTS.

--------------

ACT FIRST.

_The churchyard of Christ Church, Bergen. At the back rises the
church, the main portal of which faces the spectators. In
front, on the left, stands_ HÅKON HÅKONSSON, _with_ DAGFINN
THE PEASANT, VEGARD OF VÆRADAL, IVAR BODDE, _and several other
nobles and chieftains. Opposite to him stand_ EARL SKULE,
GREGORIUS JONSSON, PAUL FLIDA, _and others of the Earl’s men.
Further back on the same side are seen_ SIGURD RIBBUNG _and
his followers, and a little way from him_ GUTHORM INGESSON,
_with several chiefs. Men-at-arms line the approaches to the
church; the common people fill the churchyard; many are
perched in the trees and seated on the walls; all seem to
await, in suspense, the occurrence of some event. All the
church bells of the town are ringing far and near._

EARL SKULE.

[_Softly and impatiently, to_ GREGORIUS JONSSON.] Why tarry they so
long in there?

GREGORIUS JONSSON.

Hush! The psalm is beginning.

[_From inside the closed church doors, to the accompaniment
of trumpets, is heard a_ CHOIR OF MONKS AND NUNS
_singing_ Domine cœli, _etc. etc. While the singing
is going on, the church door is opened from inside; in
the porch_ BISHOP NICHOLAS _is seen, surrounded by
Priests and Monks._

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

[_Steps forward to the doorway and proclaims with uplifted
crozier._] Inga of Varteig is even now bearing the iron on behalf of
Håkon the Pretender.

[_The church door is closed again; the singing inside
continues._

GREGORIUS JONSSON.

[_In a low voice, to the_ EARL.] Call upon Holy King Olaf to protect
the right.

EARL SKULE.

[_Hurriedly, with a deprecating gesture._] Not now. Best not remind
him of me.

IVAR BODDE.

[_Seizing_ HÅKON _by the arm._] Pray to the Lord thy God, Håkon
Håkonsson.

HÅKON.

No need; I am sure of him.

[_The singing in the church grows louder; all uncover; many
fall upon their knees and pray._

GREGORIUS JONSSON.

[_To the_ EARL.] A solemn hour for you and for many!

EARL SKULE.

[_Looking anxiously towards the church._] A solemn hour for Norway.

PAUL FLIDA.

[_Near the_ EARL.] Now is the glowing iron in her hands.

DAGFINN.

[_Beside_ HÅKON.] They are coming down the nave.

IVAR BODDE.

Christ protect thy tender hands, Inga, mother of the King!

HÅKON.

Surely all my life shall reward her for this hour.

EARL SKULE.

[_Who has been listening intently, breaks out suddenly._] Did she
cry out? Has she let the iron fall?

PAUL FLIDA.

[_Goes up._] I know not what it was.

GREGORIUS JONSSON.

Hark to the women weeping in the outer hall!

THE CHOIR IN THE CHURCH.

[_Breaks forth in jubilation._] Gloria in excelsis Deo!

[_The doors are thrown open._ INGA _comes forth, followed by
Nuns, Priests, and Monks._

INGA.

[_On the church steps._] God has given judgment! Behold these hands;
with them I bore the iron!

VOICES AMONGST THE MULTITUDE.

They are tender and white as before!

OTHER VOICES.

Fairer still!

THE WHOLE MULTITUDE.

He is Håkon’s son! He is Sverre’s[21] grandson!

HÅKON.

[_Embraces her._] Thanks to thee, thanks to thee, blessed among
women!

BISHOP NICHOLAS.

[_In passing, to the_ EARL.] ’Twas ill done to press for the ordeal.

EARL SKULE.

Nay, my lord Bishop, needs must we pray for God’s voice in this
matter.

HÅKON.

[_Deeply moved, holding_ INGA _by the hand._] It is done, then, that
which my every fibre cried out against—that which has made my heart
shrivel and writhe within me——

DAGFINN.

[_Turning towards the multitude._] Ay, look upon this woman and
bethink you, all that are gathered here! Who ever doubted her word,
until certain folk required that it should be doubted.

PAUL FLIDA.

Doubt has whispered in every corner from the hour when Håkon the
Pretender was borne, a little child, into King Inge’s[22] hall.

GREGORIUS JONSSON.

And last winter it swelled to a roar, and sounded forth over the
land, both north and south; I trow every man can bear witness to
that.

HÅKON.

I myself can best bear witness to it. Therefore have I yielded to
the counsel of many faithful friends, and humbled myself as no other
chosen king has done for many a day. I have proved my birth by the
ordeal, proved my right, as the son of Håkon Sverresson, to succeed
to the throne of Norway. I will not now question who fostered the
doubt, and made it, as the Earl’s kinsman says, swell into a roar;
but this I know, that I have suffered bitterly under it. I have been
chosen king from boyhood, but little kingly honour has been shown
me, even where it seemed I might look for it most securely. I will
but remind you of last Palm Sunday in Nidaros,[23] when I went up to
the altar to make my offering, and the Archbishop turned away and
made as though he saw me not, to escape greeting me as kings are
wont to be greeted. Yet such slights I could easily have borne, had
not open war been like to break loose in the land; that I must needs
hinder.

DAGFINN.

It may be well for kings to hearken to counsels of prudence; but had
my counsel been heard in this matter, it had not been with hot iron,
but with cold steel that Håkon Håkonsson had called for judgment
between himself and his foes.

HÅKON.

Curb yourself, Dagfinn; think what beseems the man who is to be
foremost in the State.

EARL SKULE.

[_With a slight smile._] ’Tis easy to call every one the King’s foe
who chimes not with the King’s will. Methinks _he_ is the King’s
worst foe who would counsel him against making good his right to the
kingship.

HÅKON.