Chapter 15

Bishop Nicholas.

If I confess, and raise a doubt in his mind, then his faith will fall, and his strength with it.

Duke Skule.

My lord, this is sinful, sinful, if he be the rightful king.

Bishop Nicholas.

’Twill be in your power to restore his faith. Ere I depart hence, I will tell you where Trond the Priest’s letter may be found.

Sira Viliam.

[From the right.] The King is now coming up the street, with torch-bearers and attendants.

Bishop Nicholas.

He shall be welcome. [Viliamgoes.] Duke, I beg of you one last service: do you carry on my feuds against all mine enemies. [Takes out a letter.] Here I have written them down. Those whose names stand first I would fain have hanged, if it could be so ordered.

Duke Skule.

Think not upon vengeance now; you have but little time left——

Bishop Nicholas.

Not on vengeance, but on punishment. Promise me to wield the sword of punishment over all mine enemies when I am gone. They are your foemen no less than mine; when you are King you must chastise them; do you promise me that?

Duke Skule.

I promise and swear it; but Trond’s letter——!

Bishop Nicholas.

You shall learn where it is;—but see—the King comes; hide the list of our foemen!

[TheDukehides the paper; at the same momentHåkonenters from the right.

Bishop Nicholas.

Well met at the grave-feast, my lord King.

Håkon.

You have ever withstood me stubbornly; but that shall be forgiven and forgotten now; death wipes out even the heaviest reckoning.

Bishop Nicholas.

That lightened my soul! Oh how marvellous is the King’s clemency! My lord, what you have done for an old sinner this night shall be tenfold——

Håkon.

No more of that; but I must tell you that I greatly marvel you should summon me hither to obtain my forgiveness, and yet prepare for me such a meeting as this.

Bishop Nicholas.

Meeting, my lord?

Duke Skule.

’Tis of me the King speaks. Will you, my lord Bishop, assure King Håkon, by my faith and honour, that I knew nought of his coming, ere I landed at Oslo wharf?

Bishop Nicholas.

Alas, alas! The blame is all mine! I have been sickly and bedridden all the last year; I have learnt little or nought of the affairs of the kingdom; I thought all was now well between the princely kinsmen!

Håkon.

I have marked that the friendship between the Duke and myself thrives best when we hold aloof from one another; therefore farewell, Bishop Nicholas, and God be with you where you are now to go.

[Goes towards the door.

Duke Skule.

[Softly and uneasily.] Bishop, Bishop, he is going!

Bishop Nicholas.

[Suddenly and with wild energy.] Stay, King Håkon!

Håkon.

[Stops.] What now?

Bishop Nicholas.

You shall not leave this room until old Bishop Nicholas has spoken his last word!

Håkon.

[Instinctively lays his hand upon his sword.] Mayhap you have come well attended to Viken, Duke.

Duke Skule.

I have no part in this.

Bishop Nicholas.

’Tis by force of words that I will hold you. Where there is a burial in the house, the dead man ever rules the roost; he can do and let alone as he will—so far as his power may reach. Therefore will I now speak my own funeral-speech; in days gone by, I was ever sore afraid lest King Sverre should come to speak it——

Håkon.

Talk not so wildly, my lord!

Duke Skule.

You shorten the precious hour still left to you!

Håkon.

Your eyes are already dim.

Bishop Nicholas.

Ay, my sight is dim; I scarce can see you where you stand; but before my inward eye, my life is moving in a blaze of light.ThereI see sights——; hear and learn, O King!—My race was the mightiest in the land; many great chieftains had sprung from it;Ilonged to be the greatest of them all. I was yet but a boy when I began to thirst after great deeds; meseemed I could by no means wait till I were grown. Kings arose who had less right than I,—Magnus Erlingsson, Sverre the Priest——; I also would be king; but I must needs be a chieftain first. Then came the battle at Ilevoldene; ’twas the first time I went out to war. The sun went up, and glittering lightnings flashed from a thousand burnished blades. Magnus and all his men advanced as to a game; I alone felt a tightness at my heart. Fiercely our host swept forward; but I could not follow—I was afraid! All Magnus’s other chieftains fought manfully, and many fell in the fight; but I fled up over the mountain, and ran and ran, and stayed not until I came down to the fiord again, far away. Many a man had to wash his bloody clothes in Trondheim-fiord that night;—I had to wash minetoo, but not from blood. Ay, King, I was afraid;—born to be a chieftain—and afraid! It fell upon me as a thunderbolt; from that hour I hated all men. I prayed secretly in the churches, I wept and knelt before the altars, I gave rich gifts, made sacred promises; I tried and tried in battle after battle, at Saltösund, at Jonsvoldene that summer the Baglers lay in Bergen,—but ever in vain. Sverre it was who first noted it; he proclaimed it loudly and with mockery, and from that day forth, not a man in the host but laughed when Nicholas Arnesson was seen in war-weed. A coward, a coward—and yet was I filled with longing to be a chief, to be a king; nay, I felt I was born to be King. I could have furthered God’s kingdom upon earth; but ’twas the saints themselves that barred the way for me.

Håkon.

Accuse not heaven, Bishop Nicholas! You have hated much.

Bishop Nicholas.

Ay, I have hated much; hated every head in this land that raised itself above the crowd. But I hated because I could not love. Fair women,—oh, I could devour them even now with glistening eyes! I have lived eighty years, and yet do I yearn to kill men and clasp women;—but my lot in love was as my lot in war: nought but an itching will, my strength sapped from my birth; dowered with seething desire—and yet a weakling! So I became a priest: king or priest must that man be who would have all might in his hands. [Laughs.] I a priest! I a churchman! Yes, foroneclerkly office Heaven had notablyfitted me—for taking the high notes—for singing with a woman’s voice at the great church-festivals. And yet they up yonder claim of me—the half-man—what they have a right to claim only of those whom they have in all things fitted for their life-work! There have been times when I fancied such a claim might be just; I have lain here on my sick-bed crushed by the dread of doom and punishment. Now it is over; my soul has fresh marrow in its bones;Ihave not sinned; it isIthat have suffered wrong;Iam the accuser!

Duke Skule.

[Softly.] My lord—the letter! You have little time left.

Håkon.

Think of your soul, and humble you!

Bishop Nicholas.

A man’s life-work is his soul, and my life-work still shall live upon the earth. But you, King Håkon, you should beware; for as Heaven has stood againstme, and reaped harm for its reward, so are you standing against the man who holds the country’s welfare in his hand——

Håkon.

Ha—Duke, Duke! Now I see the bent of this meeting!

Duke Skule.

[Vehemently, to theBishop.] Not a word more of this!

Bishop Nicholas.

[ToHåkon.] He will stand against you so longas his head sits fast on his shoulders. Share with him! I will have no peace in my coffin, I will rise again, if you two share not the kingdom! Neither of you shall add the other’s height to his own stature. If that befell, there would be a giant in the land, and here shall no giant be; for I was never a giant!

[Sinks back exhausted on the couch.

Duke Skule.

[Falls on his knees beside the couch and cries toHåkon.] Summon help! For God’s pity’s sake; the Bishop must not die yet!

Bishop Nicholas.

How it waxes dusk before my eyes!—King, for the last time—will you share with the Duke?

Håkon.

Not a shred will I let slip of that which God gave me.

Bishop Nicholas.

Well and good. [Softly.] Your faith, at least, you shall let slip. [Calls.] Viliam!

Duke Skule.

[Softly.] The letter! The letter!

Bishop Nicholas.

[Not listening to him.] Viliam! [Viliamenters; theBishopdraws him close down to him and whispers.] When I received the Extreme Unction, all my sins were forgiven me?

Sira Viliam.

All your sins from your birth, till the moment you received the Unction.

Bishop Nicholas.

No longer? Not until the very end?

Sira Viliam.

You will not sin to-night, my lord!

Bishop Nicholas.

Who can tell——? Take the golden goblet Bishop Absalon left me—give it to the Church— and say seven high masses more.

Sira Viliam.

God will be gracious to you, my lord!

Bishop Nicholas.

Seven more masses, I say—for sins I may commit to-night! Go, go! [Viliamgoes; theBishopturns toSkule.] Duke, if you should come to read Trond the Priest’s letter, and it should mayhap prove that Håkon is the rightful king—what would you do then?

Duke Skule.

In God’s name—king he should remain.

Bishop Nicholas.

Bethink you; much is at stake. Search every fold of your heart; answer as though you stood before your Judge! What will you do, if he be the rightful king?

Duke Skule.

Bow my head and serve him.

Bishop Nicholas.

[Mumbles.] So, so: then bide the issue. [ToSkule.] Duke, I am weak and weary; a mild and charitable mood comes over me——

Duke Skule.

It is death! Trond the Priest’s letter! Where is it?

Bishop Nicholas.

First another matter;—I gave you the list of my enemies——

Duke Skule.

[Impatiently.] Yes, yes; I will take full revenge upon them——

Bishop Nicholas.

No, my soul is filled with mildness; I will forgive, as the Scripture commands. As you would forgo might, I will forgo revenge. Burn the list!

Duke Skule.

Ay, ay; as you will.

Bishop Nicholas.

Here, in the brazier; so that I may see it——

Duke Skule.

[Throws the paper into the fire.] There, then; see, it burns. And now, speak, speak. You risk thousands of lives if you speak not now!

Bishop Nicholas.

[With sparkling eyes.] Thousands of lives. [Shrieks.] Light! Air!

Håkon.

[Rushes to the door and cries.] Help! The Bishop is dying!

Sira Viliamand several of theBishop’smen enter.

Duke Skule.

[Shakes theBishop’sarm.] You risk Norway’s happiness through hundreds of years, mayhap its greatness to all eternity!

Bishop Nicholas.

To all eternity! [Triumphantly.]Perpetuum mobile!

Duke Skule.

By your soul’s salvation,—where is Trond the Priest’s letter?

Bishop Nicholas.

[Calls.] Seven more masses, Viliam!

Duke Skule.

[Beside himself.] The letter! The letter!

Bishop Nicholas.

[Smiling in his death-agony.] ’Twas it you burned, good Duke!

[Falls back on the couch and dies.

Duke Skule.

[With an involuntary cry, starts backwards and covers his face with his hands.] Almighty God!

The Monks.

[Rushing in flight from the chapel.] Save you, all who can!

Some Voices.

The powers of evil have broken loose!

Other Voices.

There rang a loud laugh from the corner!—Avoice cried: “We have him!”——All the lights went out!

Håkon.

Bishop Nicholas is even now dead.

The Monks.

[Fleeing to the right.] Pater noster—Pater noster

Håkon.

[ApproachesSkule,and says in a low voice.] Duke, I will not question what secret counsel you were hatching with the Bishop ere he died;—but from to-morrow must you give up your powers and dignities into my hands; I see clearly now that we two cannot go forward together.

Duke Skule.

[Looks at him absently.] Go forward together——?

Håkon.

To-morrow I hold an Assembly in the Palace; then must all things be made clear between us.

[Goes out to the right.

Duke Skule.

The Bishop dead and the letter burnt! A life full of doubt and strife and dread! Oh, could I but pray!—No—I must act; this evening must the stride be taken, once for all! [ToViliam.] Whither went the King?

Sira Viliam.

[Terrified.] Christ save me,—what would you with him?

Duke Skule.

Think you I would slay him to-night?

[Goes out to the right.

Sira Viliam.

[Looks after him, shaking his head, while the house-folk bear the body out to the left.] Seven more masses, the Bishop said; I think ’twere safest we should say fourteen.

[Follows the others.

A room in the Palace. In the back is the entrance door; in each of the side walls a smaller door; in front, on the right, a window. Hung from the roof, a lamp is burning. Close to the door on the left stands a bench, and further back a cradle, in which the King-child is sleeping;Margreteis kneeling beside the child.

Margrete.[Rocks the cradle and sings.]

Margrete.

[Rocks the cradle and sings.]

Now roof and rafters blend withthe starry vault on high;now flieth little Håkonon dream-wings through the sky.There mounts a mighty stairwayfrom earth to God’s own land;there Håkon with the angelsgoes climbing, hand in hand.God’s angel-babes are watchingthy cot, the still night through;God bless thee, little Håkon,thy mother watcheth too.

Now roof and rafters blend withthe starry vault on high;now flieth little Håkonon dream-wings through the sky.

Now roof and rafters blend with

the starry vault on high;

now flieth little Håkon

on dream-wings through the sky.

There mounts a mighty stairwayfrom earth to God’s own land;there Håkon with the angelsgoes climbing, hand in hand.

There mounts a mighty stairway

from earth to God’s own land;

there Håkon with the angels

goes climbing, hand in hand.

God’s angel-babes are watchingthy cot, the still night through;God bless thee, little Håkon,thy mother watcheth too.

God’s angel-babes are watching

thy cot, the still night through;

God bless thee, little Håkon,

thy mother watcheth too.

A short pause.Duke Skuleenters from the back.

Margrete.

[Starts up with a cry of joy and rushes to meet him.] My father!—Oh, how I have sighed and yearned for this meeting!

Duke Skule.

God’s peace be with you, Margrete! Where is the King?

Margrete.

With Bishop Nicholas.

Duke Skule.

Ha,—then must he soon be here.

Margrete.

And you will talk together and be at one, be friends again, as in the old days?

Duke Skule.

That would I gladly.

Margrete.

’Twould rejoice Håkon no less; and I pray to God every day that so it may be. Oh, but come hither and see——

[Takes his hand and leads him to the cradle.

Duke Skule.

Your child!

Margrete.

Ay, that lovely babe is mine;—is it not marvellous? He is called Håkon, like the King! See, his eyes—nay, you cannot see them now he is sleeping—but he has great blue eyes; and hecan laugh, and reach forth his hands to take hold of me.—and he knows me already.

[Smoothes out the bed-clothes tenderly.

Duke Skule.

Håkon will have sons, the Bishop foretold.

Margrete.

To me this little child is a thousand times dearer than all Norway’s land—and to Håkon too. Meseems I cannot rightly believe my happiness; I have the cradle standing by my bedside; every night, as often as I waken, I look to see if it be there—I am fearful lest it should prove to be all a dream——

Duke Skule.

[Listens and goes to the window.] Is not that the King?

Margrete.

Ay; he is going up the other stair; I will bring him. [Takes her father’s hand and leads him playfully up to the cradle.] Duke Skule! Keep watch over the King-child the while—for he is a King-child too—though I can never remember it! Should he wake, then bow deeply before him, and hail him as men hail kings! Now will I bring Håkon. Oh, God, God! now at last come light and peace over our house. [Goes out to the right.

Duke Skule.

[After a short and gloomy silence.] Håkon has a son. His race shall live after him. If he die, he leaves an heir who stands nearer the throne than all others. All things thrive with Håkon. Mayhap he is not the rightful king; but his faith inhimself stands firm as ever; the Bishop would have shaken it, but Death gave him not time, God gave him not leave. God watches over Håkon, and suffers him to keep the girdle of strength. Were I to tell him now? Were I to make oath to what the Bishop told me? What would it avail? None would believe me, neither Håkon nor the others. He would have believed the Bishop in the hour of death; the doubt would have rankled poisonously in him; but it was not to be. And deep-rooted as is Håkon’s faith, so is my doubt deep-rooted; what man on earth can weed it out? None, none. The ordeal has been endured, God has spoken, and still Håkon may not be the rightful king, while my life goes to waste. [Seats himself broodingly beside a table on the right.] And if, now, I won the kingdom, would not the doubt dwell with me none the less, gnawing and wearing and wasting me away, with its ceaseless icy drip, drip.—Aye; but ’tis better to sit doubting on the throne than to stand down in the crowd, doubting of him who sits there in your stead.—There must be an end between me and Håkon! An end? But how? [Rises.] Almighty, thou who hast thus bestead me, thou must bear the guilt of the issue! [Goes to and fro, stops and reflects.] I must break down all bridges, hold onlyone, and there conquer or fall—as the Bishop said at the bridal-feast at Bergen. That is now nigh upon three years since, and through all that time have I split up and spilt my strength in trying to guard all the bridges. [With energy.] Now must I follow the Bishop’s counsel; now or never! Here are we both in Oslo; this time I have more men than Håkon; why not seize the advantage—’tis so seldom on my side.[Vacillating.] But to-night——? At once——? No, no! Not to-night! Ha-ha-ha—there again!—pondering, wavering! Håkon knows not what that means; he goes straight forward, and so he conquers! [Going up the room, stops suddenly beside the cradle.] The King-child!—How fair a brow! He is dreaming. [Smoothes out the bed-clothes; and looks long at the child.] Such an one as thou can save many things in a man’s soul. I have no son. [Bends over the cradle.] He is like Håkon——[Shrinks suddenly backwards.] The King-child, said the Queen! Bow low before him and hail him as men hail kings! Should Håkon die before me, this child will be raised to the throne; and I—I shall stand humbly before him, and bow low and hail him as king! [In rising agitation.] This child, Håkon’s son, shall sit on high, on the seat that should in right, mayhap, be mine—and I shall stand before his footstool, white-haired and bowed with age, and see my whole life-work lying undone—die without having been king!—I have more men than Håkon—there blows a storm to-night, and the wind sweeps down the fiord——! If I took the King-child? I am safe with the Trönders.[34]What would Håkon dare attempt, were his child in my power? My men will follow me, fight for me and conquer. Their reward shall be kingly, and they know it.—So shall it be! I will take the stride; I will leap the abyss, for the first time! Could I but see if thou hast Sverre’s eyes—or Håkon Sverresson’s——! He sleeps. I cannot see them. [A pause.] Sleep is as a shield. Sleep in peace, thou little Pretender! [Goes over to the table.] Håkon shall decide; once again will I speak with him.

Margrete.

[Enters, with theKing,from the room on the right.] The Bishop dead! Oh, trust me, all strife dies with him.

Håkon.

To bed, Margrete! You must be weary after the journey.

Margrete.

Yes, yes. [To theDuke.] Father, be kind and yielding—Håkon has promised to be the like! A thousand good-nights, to both of you!

[Makes a gesture of farewell at the door on the left, and goes out; two women carry out the cradle.

Duke Skule.

King Håkon, this time we must not part as foes. All evil will follow; there will fall a time of dread upon the land.

Håkon.

The land has known nought else through many generations; but, see you, God is with me; every foeman falls that would stand against me. There are no more Baglers, no Slittungs, no Ribbungs; Earl Jon is slain, Guthorm Ingesson is dead, Sigurd Ribbung likewise—all claims that were put forth at the folkmote at Bergen have fallen powerless—from whom, then, should the time of dread come now?

Duke Skule.

Håkon, I fear me it might come from me!

Håkon.

When I came to the throne, I gave you the third part of the kingdom——

Duke Skule.

But kept two-thirds yourself!

Håkon.

You ever thirsted after more; I eked out your share until now you hold half the kingdom.

Duke Skule.

There lack ten ship-wards.[35]

Håkon.

I made you Duke; that has no man been in Norway before you.

Duke Skule.

But you are king! I must have no king over me! I was not born to serve you; I must rule in my own right!

Håkon.

[Looks at him for a moment, and says coldly:] Heaven guard your understanding, my lord. Good night.

[Going.

Duke Skule.

[Blocking the way.] You shall not go from me thus! Beware, or I will forswear all faith with you; you can no longer be my overlord; we two must share!

Håkon.

You dare to say this to me!

Duke Skule.

I have more men than you in Oslo, Håkon Håkonsson.

Håkon.

Mayhap you think to——

Duke Skule.

Hearken to me! Think of the Bishop’s words! Let us share; give me the ten ship-wards; let me hold my share as a free kingdom, without tax or tribute. Norway has ere this been parted into two kingdoms;—we will hold firmly together——

Håkon.

Duke, you must be soul-sick, that you can crave such a thing.

Duke Skule.

Ay, I am soul-sick, and there is no other healing for me. We two must be equals; there must be no man over me!

Håkon.

Every treeless skerry is a stone in the building which Harald Hårfager and the sainted King Olaf reared; would you have me break in twain what they have mortised together? Never!

Duke Skule.

Well, then let us reign by turns; let each bear sway for three years! You have reigned long; now my turn has come. Depart from the land for three years;—I will be king the while; I will even out your paths for you against your home-coming; I will guide all things for the best;—it wears and blunts the senses to sit ever on the watch. Håkon, hear me—three years each; let us wear the crown by turns!

Håkon.

Think you my crown would fit well on your brow?

Duke Skule.

No crown is too wide for me!

Håkon.

It needs a God-sent right and a God-sent calling to wear the crown.

Duke Skule.

And know you so surely that you have a God-sent right?

Håkon.

I have God’s own word for it.

Duke Skule.

Rest not too surely on that. Had the Bishop had time to speak—but that were bootless now; you would not believe me. Ay, truly you have mighty allies on high; but I defy you none the less! You will not reign by turns with me? Well—then must we try the last resort;—Håkon, let us two fight for it, man to man, with heavy weapons, for life or death!

Håkon.

Speak you in jest, my lord?

Duke Skule.

I speak for my life-work and for my soul’s salvation!

Håkon.

Then is there small hope for the saving of your soul.

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