LADY INGER OF ÖSTRÅT
(1855)
CHARACTERS
- Lady Inger Ottisdaughter Römer, widow of High Steward Nils Gyldenlöve.
- Elina Gyldenlöve, her daughter.
- Nils Lykke, Danish knight and councillor.
- Olaf Skaktavl, an outlawed Norwegian noble.
- Nils Stensson.
- Jens Bielke, Swedish commander.
- Biörn, majordomo at Östråt.
- Finn, a servant.
- Einar Huk, bailiff at Östråt.
- Servants, peasants, and Swedish men-at-arms.
[Pronunciation of Names.—Östråt = Östrot; Elina (Norwegian, Eline) = Eleena; Stensson = Staynson; Biörn = Byörn; Jens Bielke = Yens Byelke; Huk = Hook. The g's in “Inger” and in “Gyldenlöve” are, of course, hard. The final e's and the ö's pronounced much as in German.]
ACT FIRST
A room at Östråt. Through an open door in the back, the Banquet Hall is seen in faint moonlight, which shines fitfully through a deep bow-window in the opposite wall. To the right, an entrance-door; further forward, a curtained window. On the left, a door leading to the inner rooms; further forward a large open fireplace, which casts a glow over the room. It is a stormy evening.
Biörn and Finn are sitting by the fireplace. The latter is occupied in polishing a helmet. Several pieces of armour lie near them, along with a sword and shield.
[After a pause.] Who was Knut[12] Alfson?
My Lady says he was the last of Norway’s knighthood.
And the Danes killed him at Oslo-fiord?
If you know not that, ask any child of five.
So Knut Alfson was the last of our knighthood? And now he’s dead and gone! [Holds up the helmet.] Well, thou must e’en be content to hang scoured and bright in the Banquet Hall; for what art thou now but an empty nut-shell? The kernel—the worms have eaten that many a winter agone.
What say you, Biörn—may not one call Norway’s land an empty nut-shell, even like the helmet here; bright without, worm-eaten within?
Hold your peace, and mind your task!—Is the helmet ready?
It shines like silver in the moonlight.
Then put it by.—See here; scrape the rust off the sword.
Is it worth while?
What mean you?
The edge is gone.
What’s that to you? Give it me.—Here, take the shield.
[As before.] There is no grip to it!
[Mutters.] Let me get a grip on you——
What now?
An empty helmet, a sword with no edge, a shield with no grip—so it has all come to that. Who can blame Lady Inger if she leaves such weapons to hang scoured and polished on the walls, instead of rusting them in Danish blood?
Folly! Is there not peace in the land?
Peace? Ay, when the peasant has shot away his last arrow, and the wolf has reft the last lamb from the fold, then is there peace between them. But ’tis a strange friendship. Well, well; let that pass. ’Tis fitting, as I said, that the harness hang bright in the hall; for you know the old saw: “Call none a man but the knightly man.” So now that we have never a knight in the land, we have never a man; and where no man is, there must women order things; therefore——
Therefore—therefore I bid you hold your foul prate!
The evening wears on. Enough; you may hang the helmet and armour in the hall again.
[In a low voice.] Nay, best let it be till to-morrow.
What, do you fear the dark?
Not by day. And if so be I fear it at even, I am not the only one. Ah, you may look; I tell you in the housefolk’s room there is talk of many things. [Lower.] They say that, night by night, a tall figure, clad in black, walks the Banquet Hall.
Old wives’ tales!
Ah, but they all swear ’tis true.
That I well believe.
The strangest of all is that Lady Inger thinks the same——
[Starting.] Lady Inger? What does she think?
What Lady Inger thinks? I warrant few can tell that. But sure it is that she has no rest in her. See you not how day by day she grows thinner and paler? [Looks keenly at him.] They say she never sleeps—and that it is because of the black figure——
[While he is speaking, Elina Gyldenlöve has appeared in the half-open door on the left. She stops and listens, unobserved.
And you believe such follies?
Well, half and half. There be folk, too, that read things another way. But that is pure malice, I’ll be bound.—Hearken, Biörn—know you the song that is going round the country?
A song?
Ay, ’tis on all folks’ lips. ’Tis a shameful scurril thing, for sure; yet it goes prettily. Just listen:
[Biörn enraged, seizes him by the throat. Elina Gyldenlöve withdraws without having been seen.
I will send you guerdonless to the foul fiend, if you prate of Lady Inger but one unseemly word more.
[Breaking from his grasp.] Why—did I make the song?
Hark—what is that?
A horn. Then there come guests to-night.
[At the window.] They are opening the gate. I hear the clatter of hoofs in the courtyard. It must be a knight.
A knight? Nay, that can scarce be.
Why not?
Did you not say yourself: the last of our knighthood is dead and gone?
The accursed knave, with his prying and peering! What avails all my striving to hide and hush things? They whisper of her even now—; soon all men will be shouting aloud that——
[Comes in again through the door on the left; looks round her, and says with suppressed emotion:] Are you alone, Biörn?
Is it you, Mistress Elina?
Come, Biörn, tell me one of your stories; I know you can tell others than those that-—-
A story? Now—so late in the evening——?
If you count from the time when it grew dark at Östråt, then ’tis late indeed.
What ails you? Has aught crossed you? You seem so restless.
May be so.
There is something amiss. I have hardly known you this half year past.
Bethink you: this half year past my dearest sister Lucia has been sleeping in the vault below.
That is not all, Mistress Elina—it is not that alone that makes you now thoughtful and white and silent, now restless and ill at ease, as you are to-night.
Not that alone, you think? And wherefore not? Was she not gentle and pure and fair as a summer night? Biörn,—I tell you, Lucia was dear to me as my life. Have you forgotten how many a time, when we were children, we sat on your knee in the winter evenings? You sang songs to us, and told us tales——
Ay, then you were blithe and gay.
Ah, then, Biörn! Then I lived a glorious life in fable-land, and in my own imaginings. Can it be that the sea-strand was naked then as now? If it was so, I knew it not. ’Twas there I loved to go weaving all my fair romances; my heroes came from afar and sailed again across the sea; I lived in their midst, and set forth with them when they sailed away. [Sinks on a chair.] Now I feel so faint and weary; I can live no longer in my tales. They are only—tales. [Rising, vehemently.] Biörn, know you what has made me sick? A truth; a hateful, hateful truth, that gnaws me day and night.
What mean you?
Do you remember how sometimes you would give us good counsel and wise saws? Sister Lucia followed them; but I—ah, well-a-day!
[Consoling her.] Well, well—-!
I know it—I was proud, overweening! In all our games, I would still be the Queen, because I was the tallest, the fairest, the wisest! I know it!
That is true.
Once you took me by the hand and looked earnestly at me, and said: “Be not proud of your fairness, or your wisdom; but be proud as the mountain eagle as often as you think: I am Inger Gyldenlöve’s daughter!”
And was it not matter enough for pride?
You told me so often enough, Biörn! Oh, you told me many a tale in those days. [Presses his hand.] Thanks for them all!—Now, tell me one more; it might make me light of heart again, as of old.
You are a child no longer.
Nay, indeed! But let me dream that I am.—Come, tell on!
[Throws herself into a chair. Biörn sits on the edge of the high hearth.
Once upon a time there was a high-born knight——
[Who has been listening restlessly in the direction of the hall, seizes his arm and breaks out in a vehement whisper.] Hush! No need to shout so loud; I can hear well!
[More softly.] Once upon a time there was a high-born knight, of whom there went the strange report——
[Elina half rises, and listens in anxious suspense in the direction of the hall.
Mistress Elina,—what ails you?
[Sits down again.] Me? Nothing. Go on.
Well, as I was saying—did this knight but look straight in a woman’s eyes, never could she forget it after; her thoughts must follow him wherever he went, and she must waste away with sorrow.
I have heard that tale.—Moreover, ’tis no tale you are telling, for the knight you speak of is Nils Lykke, who sits even now in the Council of Denmark——
May be so.
Well, let it pass—go on!
Now it happened once on a time——
[Rises suddenly.] Hush; be still!
What now? What is the matter?
[Listening.] Do you hear?
What?
It is there! Yes, by the cross of Christ, it is there!
She herself—in the hall——
[Following.] How can you think—? Mistress Elina,—go to your chamber!
Hush; stand still! Do not move; do not let her see you! Wait—the moon is coming out. Can you not see the black-robed figure——?
By all the saints——!
Do you see—she turns Knut Alfson’s picture to the wall. Ha-ha; be sure it looks her too straight in the eyes!
Mistress Elina, hear me!
[Going back towards the fireplace.] Now I know what I know!
[To himself.] Then it is true!
Who was it, Biörn? Who was it?
You saw as plainly as I.
Well? Whom did I see?
You saw your mother.
[Half to herself.] Night after night I have heard her steps in there. I have heard her whispering and moaning like a soul in pain. And what says the song—? Ah, now I know! Now I know that——
Hush!
[Lady Inger Gyldenlöve enters rapidly from the hall, without noticing the others; she goes to the window, draws the curtain, and gazes out as if watching for some one on the high road; after a while, she turns and goes slowly back into the hall.
[Softly, following her with her eyes.] White, white as the dead——!
[An uproar of many voices is heard outside the door on the right.
What can this be?
Go out and see what is amiss.
[Einar Huk, the bailiff, appears in the anteroom, with a crowd of Retainers and Peasants.
[In the doorway.] Straight in to her! And be not abashed!
What seek you?
Lady Inger herself.
Lady Inger? So late?
Late, but time enough, I wot.
Yes, yes; she must hear us now!
[The whole rabble crowds into the room. At the same moment Lady Inger appears in the doorway of the hall. A sudden silence.
What would you with me?
We sought you, noble lady, to——
Well—say on!
Why, we are not ashamed of our errand. In one word—we come to pray you for weapons and leave——
Weapons and leave—? And for what?
There has come a rumour from Sweden that the people of the Dales have risen against King Gustav——
The people of the Dales?
Ay, so the tidings run, and they seem sure enough.
Well—if it were so—what have you to do with, the Dale-folk’s rising?
We will join them! We will help. We will free ourselves!
[To herself.] Can the time be come?
From all our borderlands the peasants are pouring across to the Dales. Even outlaws that have wandered for years in the mountains are venturing down to the homesteads again, and drawing men together, and whetting their rusty swords.
[After a pause.] Tell me, men—have you thought well of this? Have you counted the cost, if King Gustav’s men should win?
[Softly and imploringly to Lady Inger.] Count the cost to the Danes if King Gustav’s men should lose.
to make. [Turns to the people.
You know that King Gustav is sure of help from Denmark. King Frederick is his friend, and will never leave him in the lurch—-—-
But if the people were now to rise all over Norway’s land?—if we all rose as one man, nobles and peasants together?—Ay, Lady Inger Gyldenlöve, the time we have waited for is surely come. We have but to rise now to drive the strangers from the land.
Ay, out with the Danish sheriffs! Out with the foreign masters! Out with the Councillors’ lackeys!
[To herself.] Ah, there is metal in them; and yet, yet——!
[To himself.] She is of two minds. [To Elina.] What say you now, Mistress Elina—have you not sinned in misjudging your mother?
Biörn—if my eyes have lied to me, I could tear them out of my head!
See you not, my noble lady, King Gustav must be dealt with first. Were his power once gone, the Danes cannot long hold this land——
And then?
Then we shall be free. We shall have no more foreign masters, and can choose ourselves a king, as the Swedes have done before us.
[With animation.] A king for ourselves! Are you thinking of the Sture[13] stock?
King Christiern and others after him have swept bare our ancient houses. The best of our nobles are outlaws on the mountain paths, if so be they still live. Nevertheless, it might still be possible to find one or other shoot of the old stems——
[Hastily.] Enough, Einar Huk, enough! [To herself.] Ah, my dearest hope!
I have warned you, now, as well as I can. I have told you how great is the risk you run. But if you are fixed in your purpose, ’twere folly in me to forbid what I have no power to prevent.
Then we have your leave to——?
You have your own firm will; take counsel with that. If it be as you say, that you are daily harassed and oppressed——I know but little of these matters. I will not know more! What can I, a lonely woman—? Even if you were to plunder the Banquet Hall—and there’s many a good weapon on the walls—you are the masters at Östråt to-night. You must do as seems good to you. Good-night!
[Loud cries of joy from the multitude. Candles are lighted; the Retainers bring out weapons of different kinds from the hall.
[Seizes Lady Inger’s hand as she is going.] Thanks, my noble and high-souled mistress! I, that have known you from childhood up—I have never doubted you.
Hush, Biörn—’tis a dangerous game I have ventured this night. The others stake only their lives; but I, trust me, a thousandfold more!
How mean you? Do you fear for your power and your favour with——?
My power? O God in Heaven!
See, here’s a real good wolf’s-tooth! With this will I flay the blood-suckers’ lackeys!
[To another.] What is that you have found?
The breastplate they call Herlof Hyttefad’s.
’Tis too good for such as you. Look, here is the shaft of Sten Sture’s[14] lance; hang the breastplate upon it, and we shall have the noblest standard heart can desire.
[Comes from the door on the left, with a letter in his hand, and goes towards Lady Inger.] I have sought you through all the house——
What would you?
[Hands her the letter.] A messenger is come from Trondhiem[15] with a letter for you.