Pronunciation of Names: Håkon=Hoakoon (“oa” as in “board”); Skule=Skoolë; Margrete=Margraytë; Guthorm=Gootorm; Sigurd Ribbung=Sigoord Ribboong; Dagfinn (“a” as in “hard”); Ivar Bodde=Eevar Boddë; Vegard=Vaygard; Jonsson=Yoonson; Flida=Fleeda; Ingeborg=Ingheborg; Jatgeir=Yatgheir; Bård Bratte=Board Brattë. The name “Ingeborg” appears as “Ingebjörg” in Ibsen’s text. The form I have substituted is equally current in Norway, and less troublesome to pronounce.
The churchyard of Christ Church, Bergen. At the back rises the church, the main portal of which faces the spectators. In front, on the left, stands Håkon Håkonsson, with Dagfinn the Peasant, Vegard of Væradal, Ivar Bodde, and several other nobles and chieftains. Opposite to him stand Earl Skule, Gregorius Jonsson, Paul Flida, and others of the Earl’s men. Further back on the same side are seen Sigurd Ribbung and his followers, and a little way from him Guthorm Ingesson, with several chiefs. Men-at-arms line the approaches to the church; the common people fill the churchyard; many are perched in the trees and seated on the walls; all seem to await, in suspense, the occurrence of some event. All the church bells of the town are ringing far and near.
[Softly and impatiently, to Gregorius Jonsson.] Why tarry they so long in there?
Hush! The psalm is beginning.
[From inside the closed church doors, to the accompaniment of trumpets, is heard a Choir of Monks and Nuns singing Domine cœli, etc. etc. While the singing is going on, the church door is opened from inside; in the porch Bishop Nicholas is seen, surrounded by Priests and Monks.
[Steps forward to the doorway and proclaims with uplifted crozier.] Inga of Varteig is even now bearing the iron on behalf of Håkon the Pretender.
[The church door is closed again; the singing inside continues.
[In a low voice, to the Earl.] Call upon Holy King Olaf to protect the right.
[Hurriedly, with a deprecating gesture.] Not now. Best not remind him of me.
[Seizing Håkon by the arm.] Pray to the Lord thy God, Håkon Håkonsson.
No need; I am sure of him.
[The singing in the church grows louder; all uncover; many fall upon their knees and pray.
[To the Earl.] A solemn hour for you and for many!
[Looking anxiously towards the church.] A solemn hour for Norway.
[Near the Earl.] Now is the glowing iron in her hands.
[Beside Håkon.] They are coming down the nave.
Christ protect thy tender hands, Inga, mother of the King!
Surely all my life shall reward her for this hour.
[Who has been listening intently, breaks out suddenly.] Did she cry out? Has she let the iron fall?
[Goes up.] I know not what it was.
Hark to the women weeping in the outer hall!
[Breaks forth in jubilation.] Gloria in excelsis Deo!
[The doors are thrown open. Inga comes forth, followed by Nuns, Priests, and Monks.
[On the church steps.] God has given judgment! Behold these hands; with them I bore the iron!
They are tender and white as before!
Fairer still!
He is Håkon’s son! He is Sverre’s[21] grandson!
[Embraces her.] Thanks to thee, thanks to thee, blessed among women!
[In passing, to the Earl.] ’Twas ill done to press for the ordeal.
Nay, my lord Bishop, needs must we pray for God’s voice in this matter.
[Deeply moved, holding Inga by the hand.] It is done, then, that which my every fibre cried out against—that which has made my heart shrivel and writhe within me——
[Turning towards the multitude.] Ay, look upon this woman and bethink you, all that are gathered here! Who ever doubted her word, until certain folk required that it should be doubted.
Doubt has whispered in every corner from the hour when Håkon the Pretender was borne, a little child, into King Inge’s[22] hall.
And last winter it swelled to a roar, and sounded forth over the land, both north and south; I trow every man can bear witness to that.
I myself can best bear witness to it. Therefore have I yielded to the counsel of many faithful friends, and humbled myself as no other chosen king has done for many a day. I have proved my birth by the ordeal, proved my right, as the son of Håkon Sverresson, to succeed to the throne of Norway. I will not now question who fostered the doubt, and made it, as the Earl’s kinsman says, swell into a roar; but this I know, that I have suffered bitterly under it. I have been chosen king from boyhood, but little kingly honour has been shown me, even where it seemed I might look for it most securely. I will but remind you of last Palm Sunday in Nidaros,[23] when I went up to the altar to make my offering, and the Archbishop turned away and made as though he saw me not, to escape greeting me as kings are wont to be greeted. Yet such slights I could easily have borne, had not open war been like to break loose in the land; that I must needs hinder.
It may be well for kings to hearken to counsels of prudence; but had my counsel been heard in this matter, it had not been with hot iron, but with cold steel that Håkon Håkonsson had called for judgment between himself and his foes.
Curb yourself, Dagfinn; think what beseems the man who is to be foremost in the State.
[With a slight smile.] ’Tis easy to call every one the King’s foe who chimes not with the King’s will. Methinks he is the King’s worst foe who would counsel him against making good his right to the kingship.
Who knows? Were my right alone in question, mayhap I had not paid so dear to prove it; but higher things are here at stake: my calling and my duty. Deep and warm is the faith within me—and I blush not to own it—that I alone am he who in these times can sway the land to its weal. Kingly birth begets kingly duty——
There are others here who bear themselves the like fair witness.
That do I, and with full as good ground. My grandfather was King Magnus Erlingsson——
Ay, if your father, Erling Steinvæg, was indeed King Magnus’s son; but most folk deny it, and in that matter none has yet faced the ordeal.
The Ribbungs chose me as king of their own free will, whereas ’twas by threats that Dagfinn the Peasant and other Birchlegs[24] gained for you the name of King.
Ay, so ill had you dealt with Norway that the stock of Sverrë had to claim its right with threats.
I am of the stock of Sverrë as much as you——
But not in the true male line.
You come on the spindle side, Guthorm.
Yet this I know, that my father, Ingë Bårdsson, was lawfully chosen king of Norway.
Because none knew that Sverrë’s grandson was alive. From the day that became known, he held the kingdom in trust for me—not otherwise.
That cannot truly be said; Ingë was king all his days, with all lawful power and without reserve. ’Tis true enough that Guthorm has but little claim, for he was born out of wedlock; but I am King Ingë’s lawfully begotten brother, and the law is with me if I claim, and take, his full inheritance.
Ah, Sir Earl, of a truth you have taken full inheritance, not of your father’s wealth alone, but of all the goods Håkon Sverresson left behind him.
Not all, good Dagfinn. Respect the truth;—King Håkon has kept a brooch and the golden ring he wears on his arm.
Be that as it will; with God’s help I shall win myself wealth again. And now, ye barons and thanes, ye churchmen and chieftains and men-at-arms, now it is time we held the folkmote, as has been agreed. I have sat with bound hands until this day; methinks no man will blame me for longing to have them loosed.
There are others in like case, Håkon Håkonsson.
[His attention arrested.] What mean you, Sir Earl?
I mean that all we Pretenders have the same cause for longing. We have all alike been straitly bound, for none of us has known how far his right might reach.
The Church has been even as unstable as the kingdom; but now must we abide by the sainted King Olaf’s law.
[Half aloud.] Fresh subtleties!
[With forced calmness, advances a couple of paces towards the Earl.] I would fain think I have not rightly taken your meaning. The ordeal has made good my birthright to the kingdom, and therefore, as I deem, the folkmote has nought to do but to confirm my election, made at the Örething[25] six years ago.
No, no! That we deny!
’Twas with no such thought that we agreed to hold the folkmote here. The ordeal has not given you the kingdom; it has but proved your title to come forward to-day, along with the other Pretenders here present, and contend for the right you hold to be yours——
[Constraining himself to be calm.] That means, in brief, that for six years I have unlawfully borne the name of King, and you, Sir Earl, have for six years unlawfully ruled the land as regent for me.
In no wise. When my brother died, ’twas needful that some one should bear the kingly title. The Birchlegs, and most of all Dagfinn the Peasant, were active in your cause, and hastened your election through before we others could set forth our claims.
[To Håkon.] The Earl would say that that election gave you but the use of the kingly power, not the right to it.
You have held all the marks of kingship; but Sigurd Ribbung and Guthorm Ingesson and I hold ourselves to the full as near inheritors as you; and now shall the law judge between us, and say whose shall be the inheritance for all time.
In truth, Earl Skule reads the case aright.
There has been talk more than once in these years of both ordeal and folkmote; but something has ever come between. And, Sir Håkon, if you deemed your right for ever fixed by the first election, how came you to accept the ordeal?
[Exasperated.] To your swords, King’s men, let them decide!
[Rushing forward.] Down with the King’s enemies!
[Calls to his men.] Slay none! Wound none! Only keep them off.
[Restraining his men.] Up with your blades, all who have drawn them!—Up with your blades, I say! [Calmly.] You make things tenfold worse for me by such doings.
Even so are men flying at each other’s throats all the country over. You see now, Håkon Håkonsson; does not this show clearly what you have to do, if you care aught for the country’s peace and the lives of men?
[After some reflection.] Yes—I see it. [Takes Inga by the hand and turns to one of those standing by him.] Torkell, you were a trusty man in my father’s guard; take this woman to your own abode and see you tend her well; she was very dear to Håkon Sverresson.—God bless you, my mother,—now I must gird me for the folkmote. [Inga presses his hand, and goes with Torkell. Håkon is silent awhile, then steps forward and says with emphasis:] The law shall decide, and it alone. Ye Birchlegs who, at the Örething, took me for your King, I free you from the oath ye sware to me. You, Dagfinn, are no longer my marshal; I will not appear with marshal or with guard,[26] with vassals or with henchmen. I am a poor man; all my inheritance is a brooch and this gold ring;—these are scant goods wherewith to reward so many good men’s service. Now, ye other Pretenders, now we stand equal; I will have no advantage of you, save the right which I have from above—that I neither can nor will share with any one.—Let the assembly-call be sounded, and then let God and the Holy King Olaf’s law decide.
[Goes out with his men to the left; blasts of trumpets and horns are heard in the distance.
[To the Earl, as the crowd is departing.] Methought you seemed afraid during the ordeal, and now you look so glad and of good cheer.
[Well at ease.] Marked you that he had Sverre’s eyes as he spoke? Whether he or I be chosen king, the choice will be good.
[Uneasily.] But do not you give way. Think of all who stand or fall with your cause.
I stand now upon justice; I no longer fear to call upon Saint Olaf.
[Hastening after Dagfinn the Peasant.] All goes well, good Dagfinn, all goes well;—but keep the Earl far from the King when he is chosen;—see you keep them far apart!
A hall in the Palace. In front, on the left, is a low window; on the right, the entrance-door; at the back, a larger door which leads into the King’s Hall. By the window, a table; chairs and benches stand about.
In here?
Ay, here it is darkest.
[Goes to the window.] And here we can look down upon the mote-stead.
[Looks out cautiously.] Ay, there they are, all gathered behind the church. [Turns, in tears.] Yonder must now betide what will bring so much in its train.
Who will be master in this hall to-morrow?
Oh, hush! So heavy a day I had never thought to see.
It had to be; to rule in another’s name was no full work for him.
Ay, it had to be; he could never rest content with but the name of king.
Of whom speak you?
Of Håkon.
I spoke of the Earl.
There breathe not nobler men than they two.
See you Sigurd Ribbung? With what a look of evil cunning he sits there—like a wolf in chains.
Ay, see!—He folds his hands before him on his sword-hilt and rests his chin upon them.
He bites his beard and laughs——
’Tis an evil laugh.
He knows that none will further his cause;—’tis that which makes him wroth. Who is yonder thane that speaks now?
That is Gunnar Grionbak.
Is he for the Earl?
No, he is for the King——
[Looking at her.] For whom say you?
For Håkon Håkonsson.
[Looks out; after a short pause.] Where sits Guthorm Ingesson?—I see him not.
Behind his men, lowest of all there—in a long mantle.
Ay, there.
He looks as though he were ashamed——
That is for his mother’s sake.
So looked not Håkon.
Who speaks now?
[Looking out.] Tord Skolle, the thane of Ranafylke.
Is he for the Earl?
No—for Håkon.
How motionless the Earl sits listening!
Håkon seems thoughtful—but strong none the less. [With animation.] If there came a traveller from afar, he could pick out those two amongst all the thousand others.
See, Margrete! Dagfinn the Peasant drags forth a gilded chair for Håkon——
Paul Flida places one like it behind the Earl——
Håkon’s men seek to hinder it!
The Earl holds fast to the chair——!
Håkon speaks wrathfully to him. [Starts back, with a cry, from the window.] Lord Jesus! Saw you his eyes—and his smile——! No, that was not the Earl!
[Who has followed her in terror.] ’Twas not Håkon either! Neither one nor the other!
[At the window.] Oh pitiful! Oh pitiful!
Sigrid!
You here!
Goes the path so low that leads up to the throne!
Oh, pray with us, that all be guided for the best.
[White and horror-stricken, to Sigrid.] Saw you him——? Saw you my husband——? His eyes and his smile—I should not have known him!
Looked he like Sigurd Ribbung?
[Softly.] Ay, he looked like Sigurd Ribbung.
Laughed he like Sigurd?
Ay, ay!
Then must we all pray.
[With the force of despair.] The Earl must be chosen King! ’Twill work ruin in his soul if he be not the first man in the land!
[More loudly.] Then must we all pray!
Hist! What is that? [At the window.] What shouts! All the men have risen; all the banners and standards wave in the wind.
[Seizes her by the arm.] Pray, woman! Pray for your husband!
Ay, Holy King Olaf, give him all the power in this land!
[Wildly.] None—none! Else is he lost!
He must have the power. All the good in him will grow and blossom should he win it.—Look forth, Margrete! Listen! [Starts back a step.] All hands are lifted for an oath!
God and St. Olaf, to whom do they swear?
Pray!
[Margrete listens, and with uplifted hand motions for silence.