Chapter 19

A Man-at-Arms.

How red it glows!

A Second.

It stretches over half the sky, like a flaming sword.

Bård Bratte.

Holy King Olaf, what bodes such a sign of dread?

An Old Vårbælg.

Assuredly it bodes a great chief’s death.

Paul Flida.

Håkon’s death, my good Vårbælgs. He is lying out in the fiord with his fleet; we may look for him in the town to-night. This time, ’tis our turn to conquer!

Bård Bratte.

Trust not to that; there is little heart in the host now.

The Old Vårbælg.

And reason enough, in sooth; ever since the flight from Oslo has King Skule shut himself in, and will neither see nor speak with his men.

The First Man-at-Arms.

There are those in the town who know not whether to believe him alive or dead.

Paul Flida.

The King must out, however sick he may be. Speak to him, Bård Bratte—the safety of all is at stake.

Bård Bratte.

It avails not; I have spoken to him already.

Paul Flida.

Then must I try what I can do. [Goes to the door on the left, and knocks.] My lord King, you must take the helm in your own hands; things can no longer go on in this fashion.

King Skule.

[Within.] I am sick, Paul Flida.

Paul Flida.

What else can you look for? You have eaten nought these two days; you must nourish and strengthen you——

King Skule.

I am sick.

Paul Flida.

By the Almighty, ’tis no time for sickness.King Håkon lies out in the fiord, and may at any time be upon us here in Nidaros.

King Skule.

Strike him down for me! Slay him and the King-child.

Paul Flida.

You must be with us, my lord!

King Skule.

No, no, no,—you are surest of fortune and victory when I am not there.

Peter.

[Enters from the right; he is in armour.] The townsfolk are ill at ease; they flock together in great masses before the palace.

Bård Bratte.

Unless the King speak to them, they will desert him in the hour of need.

Peter.

Then must he speak to them. [At the door on the left.] Father! The Trönders, your trustiest subjects, will fall away from you if you give them not courage.

King Skule.

What said the skald?

Peter.

The skald?

King Skule.

The skald who died for my sake at Oslo. A man cannot give what he himself does not possess, he said.

Peter.

Then neither can you give away the kingdom; for it is mine after you!

King Skule.

Now I will come!

Paul Flida.

God be praised!

King Skule.

[Comes forward in the doorway; he is pale and haggard; his hair has grown very grey.] You shall not look at me! I will not have you look at me now that I am sick! [Goes up toPeter.] Take from you the kingdom, you say? Great God in heaven, what was I about to do!

Peter.

Oh, forgive me;—I know that what you do is ever the right.

King Skule.

No, no, not hitherto; but now I will be strong and sound—I will act!

Loud Shouts.

[Without, on the right.] King Skule! King Skule!

King Skule.

What is that?

Bård Bratte.

[At the window.] The townsmen are flocking together; the whole courtyard is full of people;—you must speak to them.

King Skule.

Do I look like a king? Can I speak now?

Peter.

You must, my noble father!

King Skule.

Well, be it so. [Goes to the window and draws the curtain aside, but lets it go quickly and starts back in terror.] There hangs the flaming sword over me again!

Paul Flida.

It bodes that the sword of victory is drawn for you.

King Skule.

Ah, were it but so! [Goes to the window and speaks out.] Trönders, what would you? Here stands your King.

A Townsman.

[Without.] Leave the town! The Birchlegs will burn and slay if they find you here.

King Skule.

We must all hold together. I have been a gracious King to you; I have craved but small war-tax——

A Man’s Voice.

[Down in the crowd.] What call you all the blood, then, that flowed at Låka and Oslo?

A Woman.

Give me my betrothed again!

A Boy.

Give me my father and my brother!

Another Woman.

Give me my three sons, King Skule!

A Man.

He is no King; homage has not been done him on St. Olaf’s shrine!

Many Voices.

No, no—no homage has been done him on St. Olaf’s shrine! He is no king!

King Skule.

[Shrinks behind the curtain.] No homage——! No king!

Paul Flida.

’Twas a dire mischance that the shrine was not brought forth when you were chosen.

Bård Bratte.

Should the townsfolk desert us, we cannot hold Nidaros if the Birchlegs come.

King Skule.

And they will desert us, so long as homage has not been done to me on the Saint’s shrine.

Peter.

Then let the shrine be brought forth, and take our homage now!

Paul Flida.

[Shaking his head.] How should that be possible?

Peter.

Is aught impossible, whereheis concerned? Sound the call for the folkmote, and bring forth the shrine!

Several of the Men.

[Shrinking back.] Sacrilege!

Peter.

No sacrilege!—Come, come! The monks are well disposed towards King Skule; they will agree——

Paul Flida.

That will they not; they dare not, for the Archbishop.

Peter.

Are you King’s men, and will not lend your aid when so great a cause is at stake! Good, there are others below of better will. My father and King, the monksshallgive way; I will pray, I will beseech; sound the summons for the folkmote; you shall bear your kingship rightfully.

[Rushes out to the right.

King Skule.

[Beaming with joy.] Saw you him! Saw you my gallant son! How his eyes shone! Yes, we will all fight and conquer. How strong are the Birchlegs?

Paul Flida.

Not stronger than that we may master them, if but the townsfolk hold to us.

King Skule.

Theyshallhold to us. We must all be at one now and put an end to this time of dread. See you not that ’tis Heaven’s command that we should end it? Heaven is wroth with all Norway for the deeds that have so long been doing. A flaming sword glows night by night in the sky; women swoon and bear children in the churches; a frenzy creeps abroad among priests and monks, causing them to run through the streets and proclaimthat the last day is come. Ay, by the Almighty, this shall be ended at one stroke!

Paul Flida.

What are your commands?

King Skule.

All the bridges shall be broken down!

Paul Flida.

Go, and let all the bridges be broken.

[One of the Men-at-arms goes out to the right.

King Skule.

Gather all our men upon the foreshore; not one Birchleg shall set foot in Nidaros.

Paul Flida.

Well spoken, King.

King Skule.

When the shrine is borne forth, let the horn sound to the folkmote. The host and the townsfolk shall be called together.

Paul Flida.

[To one of the men.] Go forth and bid the hornblower wind his horn in all the streets.

[The man goes.

King Skule.

[Addresses the people from the window.] Hold fast to me, all my sorrowing people. There shall come peace and light over the land once more, as in Håkon’s first glad days, when the fields yielded two harvests every summer. Hold fastto me; believe in me and trust to me; ’tis that I need so unspeakably. I will watch over you and fight for you; I will bleed and die for you, if need be; but fail me not, and doubt not——! [Loud cries, as though of terror, are heard among the people.] What is that?

A Wild Voice.

Atone! Atone!

Bård Bratte.

[Looks out.] ’Tis a priest possessed of the devil!

Paul Flida.

He is tearing his cowl to shreds and scourging himself with a whip.

The Voice.

Atone, atone! The last day is come.

Many Voices.

Flee, flee! Woe upon Nidaros. A deed of sin!

King Skule.

What has befallen?

Bård Bratte.

All flee, all shrink away as though a wild beast were in their midst.

King Skule.

Yes, all flee. [With a cry of joy.] Ha! it matters not. We are saved! See, see—King Olaf’s shrine stands in the middle of the courtyard.

Paul Flida.

King Olaf’s shrine!

Bård Bratte.

Ay, by Heaven—there it stands!

King Skule.

The monks are true to me; so good a deed have they never done before!

Paul Flida.

Hark! the call to the folkmote!

King Skule.

Now shall lawful homage be done to me.

Peter.

[Enters from the right.] Take on you the kingly mantle; now stands the shrine out yonder.

King Skule.

Then have you saved the kingdom for me and for yourself; and tenfold will we thank the pious monks for yielding.

Peter.

The monks, father—you have nought to thank them for.

King Skule

’Twas not they that helped you?

Peter.

They laid the ban of the Church on whoever should dare to touch the holy thing.

King Skule.

The Archbishop then! At last he gives way.

Peter.

The Archbishop hurled forth direr curses than the monks.

King Skule.

Ah, then I see that I still have trusty men. You here, who should have been the first to serve me, stood terrified and shrank back—but down in the crowd have I friends who for my sake fear not to take so great a sin upon their souls.

Peter.

You have not one trusty man who dared to take the sin upon him.

King Skule.

Almighty God! has then a miracle come to pass? Who bore out the holy thing?

Peter.

I, my father!

King Skule.

[With a shriek.] You!

The Men.

[Shrink back appalled.] Church-robber!

[Paul Flida, Bård Bratte,and one or two others go out.

Peter.

The deed had to be done. No man’s faith is sure ere homage be lawfully done to you. I begged, I besought the monks; it availed not.Then I broke open the church door; none dared to follow me. I sprang up to the high altar, gripped the handle, and pressed hard with my knees; ’twas as though an unseen power gave me more than human strength. The shrine came loose, I dragged it after me down the nave, while the ban moaned like a storm high up under the vaultings. I dragged it out of the church; all fled and shrank from me. When I came to the middle of the courtyard the handle broke; here it is!

[Holds it aloft.

King Skule.

[Quietly, appalled.] Church-robber.

Peter.

For your sake; for the sake of your great king’s-thought! You will wipe out the sin; all that is evil you will wipe away. Light and peace will follow you; a glorious day will dawn over the land—what matter, then, if there went a storm-night before it?

King Skule.

There was as ’twere a halo round your head when your mother brought you to me; now I see in its stead the lightnings of the ban.

Peter.

Father, father, think not of me; be not afraid for my woe or weal. Is it not your will I have fulfilled?—how can it be accounted to me for a crime?

King Skule.

I hungered for your faith in me, and your faith has turned to sin.

Peter.

[Wildly.] For your sake, for your sake! Therefore God dare not deny to blot it out!

King Skule.

“Pure and blameless,” I swore to Ingeborg—and he scoffs at heaven!

Paul Flida.

[Entering.] All is in uproar! The impious deed has struck terror to your men; they flee into the churches.

King Skule.

They shall out; they must out!

Bård Bratte.

[Entering.] The townsfolk have risen against you; they are slaying the Vårbælgs wherever they find them, on the streets or in the houses!

A Man-at-Arms.

[Entering.] The Birchlegs are sailing up the river!

King Skule.

Summon all my men together! None must fail me here!

Paul Flida.

They will not come; they are benumbed with dread.

King Skule.

[Despairingly.] But Icannotfall now! My son must not die with a deadly sin upon his soul!

Peter.

Think not of me; ’tis you alone that are to be thought of. Let us make for Indherred; there all men are true to you!

King Skule.

Ay, to flight! Follow me, whoso would save his life!

Bård Bratte.

What way?

King Skule.

Over the bridge!

Paul Flida.

All bridges are broken down, my lord.

King Skule.

Broken down——! All the bridges broken, say you?

Paul Flida.

Had you broken them down at Oslo, you might have let them stand at Nidaros.

King Skule.

We must over the river none the less;—we have our lives and our souls to save! To flight! To flight!

[He andPeterrush out to the left.

Bård Bratte.

Ay, better so than to fall at the hands of the townfolk and the Birchlegs.

Paul Flida.

In God’s name, then, to flight!

[All followSkule.

The room stands empty for a short time; a distant and confused noise is heard from the streets; then a troop of armed townsmen rushes in by the door on the right.

A Townsman.

Here! He must be here!

Another.

Slay him!

Many.

Slay the church-robber too!

A Single One.

Go carefully! They may yet bite!

The First Townsman.

No need; the Birchlegs are already coming up the street.

A Townsman.

[Entering.] Too late—King Skule has fled!

Many.

Whither? Whither?

The New-comer.

Into one of the churches, methinks; they are full of the Vargbælgs.

The First Townsman.

Then let us seek for him; great thanks and reward will King Håkon give to the man who slays Skule.

Another.

Here come the Birchlegs.

A Third.

King Håkon himself!

Many of the Crowd.

[Shout.] Hail to King Håkon Håkonsson!

Håkon.

[Enters from the right, followed byGregorius Jonsson, Dagfinn the Peasant,and many others.] Ay, now are you humble, you Trönders; you have stood against me long enough.

The First Townsman.

[Kneeling.] Mercy, my lord! Skule Bårdsson bore so hardly on us!

Another.

[Also kneeling.] He compelled us, else had we never followed him.

The First.

He seized our goods and forced us to fight for his unrighteous cause.

The Second.

Alas, noble lord, he has been a scourge to his friends no less than to his foes.

Many Voices.

Ay, ay,—Skule Bårdsson has been a scourge to the whole land.

Dagfinn.

That, at least, is true enough.

Håkon.

Good; with you townsfolk I will speak later;’tis my purpose to punish sternly all transgressions; but first there are other things to be thought of. Knows any man where Skule Bårdsson is?

Many.

In one of the churches, lord!

HÅkon.

Know you that for certain?

The Townsmen.

Ay, there are all the Vargbælgs.

Håkon.

[Softly toDagfinn.] He must be found; set a watch on all the churches in the town.

Dagfinn.

And when he is found, he must straightway be slain.

Håkon.

[Softly.] Slain? Dagfinn, Dagfinn, how heavy a deed it seems!

Dagfinn.

My lord, you swore it solemnly at Oslo.

Håkon.

And all men in the land will call for his death. [Turns toGregorius Jonssonand says, unheard by the others.] Go; you were once his friend; seek him out and prevail on him to fly the land.

Gregorius.

[Joyfully.] You will suffer it, my lord!

Håkon.

For the sake of my gentle, well-beloved wife.

Gregorius Jonsson.

But if he shouldnotflee? If he will not or cannot?

Håkon.

Then, in God’s name, I may not spare him; then must my kingly word be fulfilled. Go!

Gregorius Jonsson

I go, and shall do my utmost. Heaven grant I may succeed.

[Goes out by the right.

Håkon.

You, Dagfinn, go with trusty men down to the King’s ship; you shall conduct the Queen and her child up to Elgesæter[45]convent.

Dagfinn.

My lord, think you she will be safe there?

Håkon.

Nowhere safer. The Vargbælgs have shut themselves up in the churches, and she has besought to be sent thither; her mother is at Elgesæter.

Dagfinn.

Ay, ay, that I know.

Håkon.

Greet the Queen most lovingly from me; and greet Lady Ragnhild also. You may tell them that so soon as the Vargbælgs shall have madesubmission and been taken to grace, all the bells in Nidaros shall be rung, for a sign that there has come peace in the land once more.—You townsfolk shall reckon with me to-morrow, and punishment shall be meted to each according to his misdeeds.

[Goes with his men.

The First Townsman.

Woe upon us to-morrow!

The Second.

We have a long reckoning to pay.

The First.

We, who have stood against Håkon so long—who bore our part in acclaiming Skule when he took the kingly title.

The Second.

Who gave Skule both ships and war-tribute—who bought all the goods he seized from Håkon’s thanes.

The First.

Ay, woe upon us to-morrow!

A Townsman.

[Rushes in from the left.] Where is Håkon? Where is the King?

The First.

What would you with him?

The New-comer

Bring him great and weighty tidings.

Many.

What tidings?

Back to Index Next