Complete Works of Henrik Ibsen (77 page)

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 as great blue eyes; and he can 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 Kingchild 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 in himself 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 only one, 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 Tronders.
 
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 the KING, 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 the Duke.]
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.

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 Hârfager 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 erown.

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.

DUKE SKULE.
You will not fight with me? You shall, you shall!

HÅKON.
Oh blinded man! I cannot but pity you. You think ‘tis the Lord’s calling that draws you toward the throne; you see not that ‘tis nought but pride of heart. What is it that allures you? The royal circlet, the purple-bordered mantle, the right to be seated three steps above the floor; — pitiful, pitiful! Were that kingship, I would cast it into your hat, as I cast a groat to a beggar.

DUKE SKULE.
You have known me since your childhood, and you judge me thus!

HÅKON.
You have wisdom and courage and all noble gifts of the mind; you are born to stand nearest a king, but not to be a king yourself.

DUKE SKULE.
That will we now put to the proof!

HÅKON.
Name me a single king’s-task you achieved in all the years you were regent for me! Were the Baglers or the Ribbungs ever mightier than then? You were in ripe manhood, yet the land was harried by rebellious factions; did you quell a single one of them? I was young and untried when I came to the helm — look at me — all fell before me when I became king; there are no Baglers, no Ribbungs left!

DUKE SKULE.
Beware how you boast of that; for there lies the greatest danger. Party must stand against party, claim against claim, region against region, if the king is to have the might. Every village, every family, must either need him or fear him. If you strike at the root of faction, at the same stroke you kill your own power.

HÅKON.
And you would be king — you, who think such thoughts! You had been well fitted for a chieftain’s part in Erling Skakke’s days; but the time has grown away from you, and you know it not. See you not, then, that Norway’s realm, as Harald and Olaf built it up, may be likened to a church that stands as yet unconsecrate? The walls soar aloft with mighty buttresses, the vaultings have a noble span, the spire points upward, like a fir-tree in the forest; but the life, the throbbing heart, the fresh blood-stream, is lacking to the work; God’s living spirit is not breathed into it; it stands unconsecratc. —
I
will bring consecration! Norway has been a kingdom, it shall become a people. The Tronder has stood against the man of Viken, the Agdeman against the Hordalander, the Halogalander against the Sogndalesman; all shall be one hereafter, and all shall feel and know that they are one! That is the task which God has laid on my shoulders; that is the work which now lies before the King of Norway. That life-work, Duke, I think you were best to leave untried, for truly it is beyond you.

DUKE SKULE.
[Impressed]
To unite — ? To unite the Tronders and the men of Viken, — all Norway — ?
[Sceptically]
‘Tis impossible! Norway’s saga tells of no such thing!

HÅKON.
For you ‘tis impossible, for you can but work out the old saga afresh; for me, ‘tis as easy as for the falcon to cleave the clouds.

DUKE SKULE.
[In uneasy agitation]
To unite the whole people to awaken it so that it shall know itself one! Whence got you so strange a thought? It runs through me like ice and fire.
[Vehemently]
It comes from the devil, Håkon; it shall never be carried through while I have strength to buckle on my helm.

HÅKON.
‘Tis from God the thought comes to me, and never shall I let it slip while I bear St. Olaf’s circlet on my brow!

DUKE SKULE.
Then must St. Olaf’s circlet fall from your brow!

HÅKON.
Who will make it fall?