What said you?
Nay, nothing. ’Twas the air of the graves that made me dizzy.
Hark; they are hammering at the gate!
[Lets the lantern fall.] Ah! too late——!
[Biörn enters hurriedly from the right, carrying a light.
[Goes towards him.] What is amiss, Biörn? What is it?
An ambuscade! Count Sture——
Count Sture? What of him?
Have they killed him?
[To Elina.] Where is your mother?
[Rushing in from the right.] Lady Inger! Lady Inger!
[Lady Inger Gyldenlöve enters by the furthest back door on the left, with a branch-candlestick, lighted, in her hand, and says quickly:
I know all. Down with you to the courtyard! Keep the gate open for our friends, but closed against all others!
[Puts down the candlestick on the table to the left. Biörn and the two Retainers go out again to the right.
[To Nils Lykke.] So that was the trap, Sir Councillor!
Inger Gyldenlöve, believe me——!
An ambuscade that was to snap him up as soon as you had secured the promise that should destroy me!
[Takes out the paper and tears it to pieces.] There is your promise. I keep nothing that can bear witness against you.
What is this?
From this hour will I put your thoughts of me to shame. If I have sinned against you,—by Heaven I will strive to repair my crime. But now I must out, if I have to hew my way through the gate!—Elina—tell your mother all!—And you, Lady Inger, let our reckoning be forgotten! Be generous—and silent! Trust me, ere dawn of day you shall owe me a life’s gratitude. [Goes out quickly to the right.
[Looks after him with exultation.] ’Tis well! I understand him.
Nils Lykke—? Well——?
He knocked upon my door, and set this ring upon my finger.
And from his soul he holds you dear?
He has said so, and I believe him.
Bravely done, Elina! Ha-ha, Sir Knight, now is it my turn!
My mother—you are so strange. Ah, yes—I know—’tis my unloving ways that have angered you.
Not so, dear Elina! You are an obedient child. You have opened your door to him; you have hearkened to his soft words. I know full well what it must have cost you; for I know your hatred——
But, my mother——
Hush! We have played into each other’s hands. What wiles did you use, my subtle daughter? I saw the love shine out of his eyes. Hold him fast now! Draw the net closer and closer about him; and then—Ah, Elina, if we could but rend asunder his perjured heart within his breast!
Woe is me—what is it you say?
Let not your courage fail you. Hearken to me. I know a word that will keep you firm. Know then— [Listening.] They are fighting before the gate. Courage! Now comes the pinch! [Turns again to Elina.] Know then: Nils Lykke was the man that brought your sister to her grave.
[With a shriek.] Lucia!
He it was, as truly as there is an Avenger above us!
Then Heaven be with me!
[Appalled.] Elina——?!
I am his bride in the sight of God.
Unhappy child,—what have you done?
[In a toneless voice.] Made shipwreck of my soul.—Good-night, my mother!
Ha-ha-ha! It goes down-hill apace with Inger Gyldenlöve’s house. There went the last of my daughters.
Why could I not keep silence? Had she known nought, it may be she had been happy—after a kind.
It was to be so. It is written up yonder in the stars that I am to break off one green branch after another till the trunk stand leafless at last.
’Tis well, ’tis well! I shall have my son again. Of the others, of my daughters, I will not think.
My reckoning? To face my reckoning?—It falls not due till the last great day of wrath.—That comes not yet awhile.
[Calling from outside on the right.] Ho—shut the gate!
Count Sture’s voice——!
[Rushes in, unarmed, and with his clothes torn, and shouts with a laugh of desperation.] Well met again, Inger Gyldenlöve!
What have you lost?
My kingdom and my life!
And the peasants? My servants?—where are they?
You will find the carcasses along the highway. Who has the rest, I cannot tell you.
[Outside on the right.] Count Sture! Where are you?
Here, here!
[Olaf Skaktavl comes in with his right hand wrapped in a clout.
Alas, Olaf Skaktavl, you too——!
’Twas impossible to break through.
You are wounded, I see!
A finger the less; that is all.
Where are the Swedes?
At our heels. They are breaking open the gate——
Oh, God! No, no! I cannot—I will not die.
A hiding-place, Lady Inger! Is there no corner where we can hide him?
But if they search the castle——?
Ay, ay; they will find me! And then to be dragged away to prison, or be strung up——! No, no, Inger Gyldenlöve,—I know full well,—you will never suffer that to be!
[Listening.] There burst the lock.
[At the window.] Many men rush in at the gateway.
And to lose my life now! Now, when my true life was but beginning! Now, when I have so lately learnt that I have aught to live for. No, no, no!—Think not I am a coward, Inger Gyldenlöve! Might I but have time to show——
I hear them now in the hall below.
He must be saved—cost what it will!
[Seizes her hand.] Oh, I knew it;—you are noble and good!
But how? Since we cannot hide him——
Ah, I have it! I have it! The secret——!
The secret?
Even so; yours and mine!
Merciful Heaven—you know it?
From first to last. And now when ’tis life or death—Where is Nils Lykke?
Fled.
Fled? Then God help me; for he alone can unseal my lips.—But what is a promise against a life! When the Swedish captain comes——
What then? What will you do?
Purchase life and freedom;—tell him all.
Oh no, no;—be merciful!
Nought else can save me. When I have told him what I know——
[Looks at him with suppressed agitation.] You will be safe?
Ay, safe! Nils Lykke will speak for me. You see, ’tis the last resource.
[Composedly, with emphasis.] The last resource? Right, right—the last resource all are free to try. [Points to the left.] See, meanwhile you can hide in there.
[In a low voice.] Trust me—you will never repent of this.
[Half to herself.] God grant that you speak the truth!
[Nils Stensson goes out hastily by the furthest door on the left. Olaf Skaktavl is following; but Lady Inger detains him.
Did you understand his meaning?
The dastard! He would betray your secret. He would sacrifice your son to save himself.
When life is at stake, he said, we must try the last resource.—’Tis well, Olaf Skaktavl,—let it be as he has said!
What mean you?
Life against life! One of them must perish.
Ah—you would——?
If we close not the lips of him that is within ere he come to speech with the Swedish captain, then is my son lost to me. But if, on the other hand, he be swept from my path, when the time comes I can claim all his rights for my own child. Then shall you see that Inger Ottis’ daughter has metal in her yet. Of this be assured—you shall not have long to wait for the vengeance you have thirsted after for twenty years.—Hark! They are coming up the stairs! Olaf Skaktavl,—it lies with you whether tomorrow I shall be no more than a childless woman, or ——
So be it! I have yet one sound hand left.
[Gives her his hand.] Inger Gyldenlöve—your name shall not die out through me.
[Pale and trembling.] But dare I——?
[A noise is heard in the room; she rushes with a scream towards the door.
No, no,—it must not be!
[A heavy fall is heard within; she covers her ears with her hands and hurries back across the hall with a wild look. After a pause she takes her hands cautiously away, listens again, and says softly:
Now it is over. All is still within——
Thou sawest it, God—I repented me! But Olaf Skaktavl was too swift of hand.
[After a pause, without looking at him.] Is it done?
You need fear him no more; he will betray no one.
[As before.] Then he is dumb?
Six inches of steel in his breast. I felled him with my left hand.
Ay, ay—the right was too good for such work.
That is your affair;—the thought was yours.—And now to Sweden! Peace be with you meanwhile! When next we meet at Östråt, I shall bring another with me.
Blood on my hands. Then ’twas to come to that!—He begins to be dear-bought now.
[Biörn comes in, with a number of Swedish Men-at-Arms, by the first door on the right.
Pardon, if you are the lady of the house——
Is it Count Sture ye seek?
The same.
Then you are on the right track. The Count has sought refuge with me.
Refuge? Pardon, my noble lady,—you have no power to harbour him; for——
That the Count himself has doubtless understood; and therefore he has—ay, look for yourselves—therefore he has taken his own life.
His own life!
Look for yourselves, I say. You will find the corpse within there. And since he already stands before another judge, it is my prayer that he may be borne hence with all the honour that beseems his noble birth.—Biörn, you know my own coffin has stood ready this many a year in the secret chamber. [To the Men-at-Arms.] I pray that in it you will bear Count Sture’s body to Sweden.
It shall be as you command. [To one of the others.] Haste with these tidings to Jens Bielke. He holds the road with the rest of the troop. We others must in and——
One of the Men-at-Arms goes out to the right; the others go with Biörn into the room on the left.
If Count Sture had not taken such hurried leave of the world, within a month he had hung on a gallows, or had lain for all his days in a dungeon. Had he been better served with such a lot?
Or else he had bought his life by betraying my child into the hands of my foes. Is it I, then, that have slain him? Does not even the wolf defend her cubs? Who dare condemn me for striking my claws into him that would have reft me of my flesh and blood?—It had to be. No mother but would have done even as I.
But ’tis no time for idle musings now. I must to work.
I will write to all my friends throughout the land. They must rise as one man to support the great cause. A new king,—regent first, and then king——
Begins to write, but falls into thought, and says softly:
Who will be chosen in the dead man’s place?—A king’s mother—? ’Tis a fair word. It has but one blemish—the hateful likeness to another word.—King’s mother and—king’s murderer.[21]—King’s murderer—one that takes a king’s life. King’s mother—one that gives a king life.
Well, then; I will make good what I have taken.—My son shall be a king!
She sits down again and begins writing, but pushes the paper away again, and leans back in her chair.
There is ever an eerie feeling in a house where lies a corpse. ’Tis therefore my mood is so strange. [Turns her head to one side as if speaking to some one.] Not therefore? Why else should it be?
Is there such a great gulf, then, between openly striking down a foe and slaying one—thus? Knut Alfson had cleft many a brow with his sword; yet was his own as peaceful as a child’s. Why then do I ever see this—[makes a motion as though striking with a knife]—-this stab in the heart—and the gush of red blood after?
Rings, and goes on speaking while shifting about her papers.
Hereafter I will have nought to do with such ugly sights. I will be at work both day and night. And in a month—in a month my son will be here——
[Entering.] Did you strike the bell, my lady?
[Writing.] Bring more lights. See to it in future that there are many lights in the room.
After a pause, rises impetuously.] No, no, no;—I cannot guide the pen to-night! My head is burning and throbbing——
What is that? Ah, they are screwing the lid on the coffin.
They told me when I was a child the story of Sir Aage,[22] who rose up and walked with his coffin on his back.—If he in there bethought him one night to come with the coffin on his back, and thank me for the loan? [Laughs quietly.] H’m—what have we grown people to do with childish fancies? [Vehemently.] Nevertheless, such stories do no good! They give uneasy dreams. When my son is king, they shall be forbidden.
Paces up and down once or twice; then opens the window.
How long is it, commonly, ere a body begins to rot? All the rooms must be aired. ’Tis not wholesome here till that be done.
Biörn comes in with two lighted branch-candlesticks, which he places on the tables.
[Who has set to work at the papers again.] It is well. See you forget not what I have said. Many lights on the table!
What are they about now in there?
They are still screwing down the coffin-lid.
[Writing.] Are they screwing it down tight?
As tight as need be.
Ay, ay—who can tell how tight it needs to be? Do you see that ’tis well done.
[Goes up to him with her hand full of papers, and says mysteriously:
Biörn, you are an old man; but one counsel I will give you. Be on your guard against all men—both those that are dead and those that are still to die.—Now go in—go in and see to it that they screw the lid down tightly.
[Softly, shaking his head.] I cannot make her out.
[Begins to seal a letter, but throws it down half-closed; walks up and down awhile, and then says vehemently:] Were I a coward I had never done it—never to all eternity! Were I a coward, I had shrieked to myself: Refrain, while there is yet a shred of hope for the saving of thy soul!
[Her eye falls on Sten Sture’s picture; she turns to avoid seeing it, and says softly:
He is laughing down at me as though he were alive! Pah!
Wherefore did you laugh? Was it because I did evil to your son? But the other,—is not he your son too? And he is mine as well; mark that!
So wild as they are to-night, I have never seen them yet. Their eyes follow me wherever I may go. [Stamps on the floor.] I will not have it! I will have peace in my house! [Begins to turn all the pictures to the wall.] Ay, if it were the Holy Virgin herself——Thinkest thou now is the time——? Why didst thou never hear my prayers, my burning prayers, that I might have my child again? Why? Because the monk of Wittenberg is right: There is no mediator between God and man!
[She draws her breath heavily, and continues in ever-increasing distraction.
’Tis well that I know what to think in such things. There was no one to see what was done in there. There is none to bear witness against me.
My son! My beloved child! Come to me! Here I am!—Hush! I will tell you something: They hate me up there—beyond the stars—because I bore you into the world. ’Twas their will that I should bear the Lord God’s standard over all the land. But I went my own way. That is why I have had to suffer so much and so long.
[Comes from the room on the left.] My lady, I have to tell you—Christ save me—what is this?
[Has climbed up into the high-seat by the right-hand wall.] Hush! Hush! I am the King’s mother. My son has been chosen king. The struggle was hard ere it came to this—for ’twas with the Almighty One himself I had to strive.
[Comes in breathless from the right.] He is saved! I have Jens Bielke’s promise. Lady Inger,—know that——
Peace, I say! look how the people swarm.
There comes the coronation train. What a throng! All men bow themselves before the King’s mother. Ay, ay; has she not fought for her son—even till her hands grew red withal?—Where are my daughters? I see them not.
God’s blood!—what has befallen here?
My daughters—my fair daughters! I have none any more. I had one left, and her I lost even as she was mounting her bridal bed. [Whispers.] In it lay Lucia dead. There was no room for two.
Ah—it has come to this! The Lord’s vengeance is upon me.
Can you see him? Look, look! ’Tis the King. It is Inger Gyldenlöve’s son! I know him by the crown and by Sten Sture’s ring that he wears round his neck. Hark, what a joyful sound! He is coming! Soon will he be in my arms! Ha-ha!—who conquers, God or I?
[Clutches at her head and shrieks.] The corpse! [Whispers.] Pah! ’Tis a hideous dream. [Sinks back into the high-seat.
[Who has come in from the right, stops and cries in astonishment.] Dead! Then after all——
’Twas he himself that——
[With a look at Nils Lykke.] He himself——?
Hush!
[Faintly, coming to herself.] Ay, right;—now I remember all.