Part 5

ASTRID. Best mind thy comb-pot and forget our king Before the Longcoat helps at thy awaking.... I like not this forsaken quiet house. The house-men out at harvest in the Isles Never return. Perhaps they went but now, Yet I am sore with fearing and expecting Because they do not come. They will not come. I like not this forsaken quiet house, This late last harvest, and night creeping in.

ODDNY. I like not dwelling in an outlaw's house. Snow shall be heavier upon some eyes Than you can tell of--ay, and unseen earth Shall keep that snow from filling those poor eyes. This void house is more void by brooding things That do not happen than by absent men. Sometimes when I awaken in the night My throbbing ears are mocking me with rumours Of crackling beams, beams falling, and loud flames.

ASTRID, _pointing to the weapons by the high-seat._ The bill that Gunnar won in a far sea-fight Sings inwardly when battle impends; as a harp Replies to the wind thus answers it to fierceness, So tense its nature is and the spell of its welding; Then trust ye well that while the bill is silent No danger thickens, for Gunnar dies not singly.

STEINVOR. But women are let forth free when men go burning?

ODDNY. Fire is a hurrying thing, and fire by night Can see its way better than men see theirs.

ASTRID. The land will not be nobler or more holpen If Gunnar burns and we go forth unsinged. Why will he break the atonement that was set? That wise old Njal who has the second sight Foretold his death if he should slay twice over In the same kin or break the atonement set: Yet has he done these things and will not care. Kolskegg, who kept his back in famous fights, Sailed long ago and far away from us Because that doom is on him for the slayings; Yet Gunnar bides although that doom is on him And he is outlawed by defiance of doom.

STEINVOR. Gunnar has seen his death: he is spoken for. He would not sail because, when he rode down Unto the ship, his horse stumbled and threw him, His face toward the Lithe and his own fields. Olaf the Peacock bade him be with him In his new mighty house so carven and bright, And leave this house to Rannveig and his sons: He said that would be well, yet never goes. Is he not thinking death would ride with him? Did not Njal offer to send his sons, Skarphedin ugly and brave and Hauskuld with him, To hold this house with Gunnar, who refused them Saying he would not lead young men to death? I tell you Gunnar is done.... His fetch is out.

ODDNY. Nay, he's been topmost in so many fights That he believes he shall fight on untouched.

STEINVOR. He rides to motes and Things before his foes. He has sent his sons harvesting in the Isles. He takes deliberate heed of death--to meet it, Like those whom Odin needs. He is fey, I tell you-- And if we are past the foolish ardour of girls For heroisms and profitless loftiness We shall get gone when bedtime clears the house. 'Tis much to have to be a hero's wife, And I shall wonder if Hallgerd cares about it: Yet she may kindle to it ere my heart quickens. I tell you, women, we have no duty here: Let us get gone to-night while there is time, And find new harbouring ere the laggard dawn, For death is making narrowing passages About this hushed and terrifying house.

_RANNVEIG, an old wimpled woman, enters as if from a door at the unseen end of the hall._

ASTRID. He is so great and manly, our master Gunnar, There are not many ready to meet his weapons: And so there may not be much need of weapons. He is so noble and clear, so swift and tender, So much of Iceland's fame in foreign places, That too many love him, too many honour him To let him die, lest the most gleaming glory Of our grey country should be there put out.

RANNVEIG. My son has enemies, girl, enemies, Who will not lose the joy of hurting him. This little land is no more than a lair That holds too many fiercenesses too straitly, And no man will refuse the rapture of killing When outlawry has made it cheap and righteous. So long as any one perceives he knows A bare place for a weapon on my son His hand shall twitch to fit a weapon in. Indeed he shall lose nothing but his life Because a woman is made so evil fair, Wasteful and white and proud in harmful acts. I lose two sons when Gunnar's eyes are still, For then will Kolskegg never more turn home.... If Gunnar would but sail three years would pass; Only three years of banishment said the doom-- So few, so few, for I can last ten years With this unshrunken body and steady heart. (_To ORMILD_) Have I sat down in comfort by the fire And waited to be told the thing I knew? Have any men come home to the young women, Thinking old women do not need to hear, That you can play at being a bower-maid In a long gown although no beasts are foddered? Up, lass, and get thy coats about thy knees, For we must cleanse the byre and heap the midden Before the master knows--or he will go, And there is peril for him in every darkness.

ORMILD, _tucking up her skirts._ Then are we out of peril in the darkness? We should do better to nail up the doors Each night and all night long and sleep through it, Giving the cattle meat and straw by day.

ODDNY. Ay, and the hungry cattle should sing us to sleep.

_The others laugh. ORMILD goes out to the left; RANNVEIG is following her, but pauses at the sound of a voice._

HALLGERD, _beyond the door of the women's daïs._ Dead men have told me I was better than fair, And for my face welcomed the danger of me: Then am I spent?

_She enters angrily, looking backward through the doorway._

Must I shut fast my doors And hide myself? Must I wear up the rags Of mortal perished beauty and be old? Or is there power left upon my mouth Like colour, and lilting of ruin in my eyes? Am I still rare enough to be your mate? Then why must I shame at feasts and bear myself In shy ungainly ways, made flushed and conscious By squat numb gestures of my shapeless head-- Ay, and its wagging shadow--clouted up, Twice tangled with a bundle of hot hair, Like a thick cot-wife's in the settling time? There are few women in the Quarter now Who do not wear a shapely fine-webbed coif Stitched by dark Irish girls in Athcliath With golden flies and pearls and glinting things: Even my daughter lets her big locks show, Show and half show, from a hood gentle and close That spans her little head like her husband's hand.

GUNNAR, _entering by the same door._ I like you when you bear your head so high; Lift but your heart as high, you could get crowned And rule a kingdom of impossible things. You would have moon and sun to shine together, Snow-flakes to knit for apples on bare boughs, Yea, love to thrive upon the terms of hate. If I had fared abroad I should have found In many countries many marvels for you Though not more comeliness in peopled Romeborg And not more haughtiness in Mickligarth Nor craftiness in all the isles of the world, And only golden coifs in Athcliath: Yet you were ardent that I should not sail, And when I could not sail you laughed out loud And kissed me home....

HALLGERD, _who has been biting her nails._ And then ... and doubtless ... and strangely ... And not more thriftiness in Bergthorsknoll Where Njal saves old soft sackcloth for his wife. O, I must sit with peasants and aged women, And keep my head wrapped modestly and seemly;

_She turns to RANNVEIG._

I must be humble--as one who lives on others.

_She snatches off her wimple, slipping her gold circlet as she does so, and loosens her hair._

Unless I may be hooded delicately And use the adornment noble women use I'll mock you with my flown young widowhood, Letting my hair go loose past either cheek In two bright clouds and drop beyond my bosom, Turning the waving ends under my girdle As young glad widows do, and as I did Ere ever you saw me--ay, and when you found me And met me as a king meets a queen In the undying light of a summer night With burning robes and glances--stirring the heart with scarlet.

_She tucks the long ends of her hair under her girdle._

RANNVEIG. You have cast the head-ring of the nobly nurtured, Being eager for a bold uncovered head. You are conversant with a widow's fancies.... Ay, you are ready with your widowhood: Two men have had you, chilled their bosoms with you, And trusted that they held a precious thing-- Yet your mean passionate wastefulness poured out Their lives for joy of seeing something done with. Cannot you wait this time? 'Twill not be long.

HALLGERD. I am a hazardous desirable thing, A warm unsounded peril, a flashing mischief, A divine malice, a disquieting voice: Thus I was shapen, and it is my pride To nourish all the fires that mingled me. I am not long moved, I do not mar my face, Though men have sunk in me as in a quicksand. Well, death is terrible. Was I not worth it? Does not the light change on me as I breathe? Could I not take the hearts of generations, Walking among their dreams? O, I have might, Although it drives me too and is not my own deed.... And Gunnar is great, or he had died long since. It is my joy that Gunnar stays with me: Indeed the offence is theirs who hunted him, His banishment is not just; his wrongs increase, His honour and his following shall increase If he is steadfast for his blamelessness.

RANNVEIG. Law is not justice, but the sacrifice Of singular virtues to the dull world's ease of mind; It measures men by the most vicious men; It is a bargaining with vanities, Lest too much right should make men hate each other And hasten the last battle of all the nations. Gunnar should have kept the atonement set, For then those men would turn to other quarrels.

GUNNAR. I know not why it is I must be fighting, For ever fighting, when the slaying of men Is a more weary and aimless thing to me Than most men think it ... and most women too. There is a woman here who grieves she loves me, And she too must be fighting me for ever With her dim ravenous unsated mind.... Ay, Hallgerd, there's that in her which desires Men to fight on forever because she lives: When she took form she did it like a hunger To nibble earth's lip away until the sea Poured down the darkness. Why then should I sail Upon a voyage that can end but here? She means that I shall fight until I die: Why must she be put off by whittled years, When none can die until his time has come?

_He turns to the hound by the fire._

Samm, drowsy friend, dost scent a prey in dreams? Shake off thy shag of sleep and get to thy watch: 'Tis time to be our eyes till the next light. Out, out to the yard, good Samm.

_He goes to the left, followed by the hound. In the meantime HALLGERD has seated herself in the high-seat near the sewing-women, turning herself away and tugging at a strand of her hair, the end of which she bites._

RANNVEIG, _intercepting him._ Nay, let me take him. It is not safe--there may be men who hide.... Hallgerd, look up; call Gunnar to you there:

_HALLGERD is motionless._

Lad, she beckons. I say you shall not come.

GUNNAR, _laughing._ Fierce woman, teach me to be brave in age, And let us see if it is safe for you.

_He leads RANNVEIG out, his hand on her shoulder; the hound goes with them._

STEINVOR. Mistress, my heart is big with mutinies For your proud sake: does not your heart mount up? He is an outlaw now and could not hold you If you should choose to leave him. Is it not law? Is it not law that you could loose this marriage-- Nay, that he loosed it shamefully years ago By a hard blow that bruised your innocent cheek, Dishonouring you to lesser women and chiefs? See, it burns up again at the stroke of thought. Come, leave him, mistress; we will go with you. There is no woman in the country now Whose name can kindle men as yours can do-- Ay, many would pile for you the silks he grudges; And if you did withdraw your potent presence Fire would not spare this house so reverently.

HALLGERD. Am I a wandering flame that sears and passes? We must bide here, good Steinvor, and be quiet. Without a man a woman cannot rule, Nor kill without a knife; and where's the man That I shall put before this goodly Gunnar? I will not be made less by a less man. There is no man so great as my man Gunnar: I have set men at him to show forth his might; I have planned thefts and breakings of his word When my pent heart grew sore with fermentation Of malice too long undone, yet could not stir him. O, I will make a battle of the Thing, Where men vow holy peace, to magnify him. Is it not rare to sit and wait o' nights, Knowing that murderousness may even now Be coming down outside like second darkness Because my man is greater?

STEINVOR, _shuddering._ Is it not rare.

HALLGERD. That blow upon the face So long ago is best not spoken of. I drave a thrall to steal and burn at Otkell's Who would not sell to us in famine time But denied Gunnar as if he were suppliant: Then at our feast when men rode from the Thing I spread the stolen food and Gunnar knew. He smote me upon the face ... indeed he smote me.... O, Gunnar smote me and had shame of me And said he'd not partake with any thief; Although I stole to injure his despiser.... But if he had abandoned me as well 'Tis I who should have been unmated now; For many men would soon have judged me thief And shut me from this land until I died-- And then I should have lost him.... Yet he smote me....

ASTRID. He kept you his--yes, and maybe saved you From a debasement that could madden or kill, For women thieves ere now have felt a knife Severing ear or nose. And yet the feud You sowed with Otkell's house shall murder Gunnar. Otkell was slain: then Gunnar's enviers, Who could not crush him under his own horse At the big horse-fight, stirred up Otkell's son To avenge his father; for should he be slain Two in one stock would prove old Njal's fore-telling, And Gunnar's place be emptied either way For those high helpless men who cannot fill it. O, mistress, you have hurt us all in this: You have cut off your strength, you have maimed yourself, You are losing power and worship and men's trust. When Gunnar dies no other man dare take you.

HALLGERD. You gather poison in your mouth for me. A high-born woman may handle what she fancies Without being ear-pruned like a pilfering beggar. Look to your ears if you touch ought of mine: Ay, you shall join the mumping sisterhood And tramp and learn your difference from me. _She turns from_ ASTRID. Steinvor, I have remembered the great veil, The woven cloud, the tissue of gold and garlands, That Gunnar took from some outlandish ship And deemed a thing from Greekland or from Hind: Fetch it from the ambry in the bower.

_STEINVOR goes out by the daïs door._

ASTRID. Mistress, indeed you are a cherished woman. That veil is worth a lifetime's weight of coifs: I have heard a queen offered her daughter for it, But Gunnar said it should come home and wait-- And then gave it to you. The half of Iceland Tells fabulous legends of a fabulous thing, Yet never saw it: I know they never saw it, For ere it reached the ambry I came on it Tumbled in the loft with ragged kirtles.

HALLGERD. What, are you there again? Let Gunnar alone.

_STEINVOR enters with the veil folded. HALLGERD takes it with one hand and shakes it into a heap._

This is the cloth. He brought it out at night, In the first hour that we were left together, And begged of me to wear it at high feasts And more outshine all women of my time: He shaped it to my head with my gold circlet, Saying my hair smouldered like Rhine-fire through, He let it fall about my neck and fall About my shoulders, mingle with my skirts And billow in the draught along the floor.

_She rises and holds the veil behind her head._

I know I dazzled as if I entered in And walked upon a windy sunset and drank it, Yet must I stammer at such strange uncouthness And tear it from me, tangling my arms in it-- I could not so befool myself and seem A laughable bundle in each woman's eyes, Wearing such things as no one ever wore, Useless ... no head-cloth ... too unlike my fellows. Yet he turns miser for a tiny coif. It would cut into many golden coifs And dim some women in their Irish clouts-- But no; I'll shape and stitch it into shifts, Smirch it like linen, patch it with rags, to watch His silent anger when he sees my answer. Give me thy shears, girl Oddny.

ODDNY. You'll not part it?

HALLGERD. I'll shorten it.

ODDNY. I have no shears with me.

HALLGERD. No matter; I can start it with my teeth And tear it down the folds. So. So. So. So. Here's a fine shift for summer: and another. I'll find my shears and chop out waists and neck-holes. Ay, Gunnar, Gunnar!

_She throws the tissue on the ground, and goes out by the daïs door._

ODDNY, _lifting one of the pieces._ O me! A wonder has vanished.

STEINVOR. What is a wonder less? She has done finely, Setting her worth above dead marvels and shows....

_The deep menacing baying of the hound is heard near at hand. A woman's cry follows it._

They come, they come! Let us flee by the bower!

_Starting up, she stumbles in the tissue and sinks upon it. The others rise._

You are leaving me--will you not wait for me-- Take, take me with you....

_Mingled cries of women are heard._

GUNNAR, _outside._ Samm, it is well: be still. Women, be quiet; loose me; get from my feet, Or I will set the hound to wipe me clear....

STEINVOR, _recovering herself._ Women are sent to spy.

_The sound of a door being opened is heard. GUNNAR enters from the left, followed by three beggar-women, BIARTEY, JOFRID, and GUDFINN. They hobble and limp, and are swathed in shapeless nameless rags which trail about their feet; BIARTEY'S left sleeve is torn completely away, leaving her arm bare and mud-smeared; the others' skirts are torn, and JOFRID'S gown at the neck; GUDFINN wears a felt hood buttoned under her chin, the others' faces are almost hid in falling tangles of grey hair. Their faces are shrivelled and weather-beaten, and BIARTEY'S mouth is distorted by two front teeth that project like tusks._

GUNNAR. Get in to the light. Yea has he mouthed ye? ... What men send ye here? Who are ye? Whence come ye? What do ye seek? I think no mother ever suckled you: You must have dragged your roots up in waste places One foot at once, or heaved a shoulder up--

BIARTEY, _interrupting him._ Out of the bosoms of cairns and standing stones. I am Biartey: she is Jofrid: she is Gudfinn: We are lone women known to no man now. We are not sent: we come.

GUNNAR. Well, you come. You appear by night, rising under my eyes Like marshy breath or shadows on the wall; Yet the hound scented you like any evil That feels upon the night for a way out. And do you, then, indeed wend alone? Came you from the West or the sky-covering North, Yet saw no thin steel moving in the dark?

BIARTEY. Not West, not North: we slept upon the East, Arising in the East where no men dwell. We have abided in the mountain places, Chanted our woes among the black rocks crouching;

_GUDFINN joins her in a sing-song utterance._

From the East, from the East we drove and the wind waved us, Over the heaths, over the barren ashes. We are old, our eyes are old, and the light hurts us, We have skins on our eyes that part alone to the star-light. We stumble about the night, the rocks tremble Beneath our trembling feet; black sky thickens, Breaks into clots, and lets the moon upon us.

_JOFRID joins her voice to the voices of the other two._

Far from the men who fear us, men who stone us, Hiding, hiding, flying whene'er they slumber, High on the crags we pause, over the moon-gulfs; Black clouds fall and leave us up in the moon-depths Where wind flaps our hair and cloaks like fin-webs, Ay, and our sleeves that toss with our arms and the cadence Of quavering crying among the threatening echoes. Then we spread our cloaks and leap down the rock-stairs, Sweeping the heaths with our skirts, greying the dew-bloom, Until we feel a pool on the wide dew stretches Stilled by the moon or ruffling like breast-feathers, And, with grey sleeves cheating the sleepy herons, Squat among them, pillow us there and sleep. But in the harder wastes we stand upright, Like splintered rain-worn boulders set to the wind In old confederacy, and rest and sleep.

_HALLGERD'S women are huddled together and clasping each other._

ODDNY. What can these women be who sleep like horses, Standing up in the darkness.... What will they do....

GUNNAR. Ye wail like ravens and have no human thoughts. What do ye seek? What will ye here with us?

BIARTEY, _as all three cower suddenly._ Succour upon this terrible journeying. We have a message for a man in the West, Sent by an old man sitting in the East. We are spent, our feet are moving wounds, our bodies Dream of themselves and seem to trail behind us Because we went unfed down in the mountains. Feed us and shelter us beneath your roof, And put us over the Markfleet, over the channels. We are weak old women: we are beseeching you.

GUNNAR. You may bide here this night, but on the morrow You shall go over, for tramping shameless women Carry too many tales from stead to stead-- And sometimes heavier gear than breath and lies. These women will tell the mistress all I grant you; Get to the fire until she shall return.

BIARTEY. Thou art a merciful man and we shall thank thee.

GUNNAR _goes out again to the left._

_The old women approach the young ones gradually._

Little ones, do not doubt us. Could we hurt you? Because we are ugly must we be bewitched?

STEINVOR. Nay, but bewitch us.

BIARTEY. Not in a litten house: Not ere the hour when night turns on itself And shakes the silence: not while ye wake together. Sweet voice, tell us, was that verily Gunnar?

STEINVOR. Arrh--do not touch me, unclean flyer-by-night: Have ye birds' feet to match such bat-webbed fingers?

BIARTEY. I am only a cowed curst woman who walks with death; I will crouch here. Tell us, was it Gunnar?

ODDNY. Yea, Gunnar surely. Is he not big enough To fit the songs about him?