ACT FOURTH.

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. ToDagny,who is also going.] Whither wiltthou?thou?

Dagny.

I will not meet Sigurd. Too well I feel that we must part; but to meet himnow—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!

Sigurdenters 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.] NotforGunnar, butagainstthee.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 shewas 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. SoGunnar 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 couldheal 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 farewith her father to Iceland; I will follow thee in harness of steel, whithersoever thou wendest. [Sigurdmakes 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 unconquerablemight 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—Ihaveloved 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 thoucanstnot. 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, toHiördis.] 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 towardsSigurd,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 towardsHiördis.] A high-souled woman must ever guard her husband’shonour. [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 toSigurdand 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.Gunnargoes out to the right.Sigurdcasts a glance atHiördis,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.

Örnulfsits 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,SigurdandDagnyenter from the boat-house, where a wood fire is burning.

Dagny.

[In a low voice.] There sits he still. [HoldingSigurdback.] 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.Dagnyseats 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, toDagny, who rises.] Let him sit yet awhile.

Dagny.

Nay, I have one rede yet untried;—I know him. [ToÖrnulf.] 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 atSigurd.] To sing? What thinkestthou, 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.

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