ACT IV

FIRST SCENE

_A square at the foot of Brunkeberg, A fountain stands in the centre. The Hansa House appears at the right. It is built of red bricks, with windows in Gothic style. The windows are barred outside and have shutters within. The gates are fastened with heavy wooden beams. Above the gateway appear the flag and coat of arms of Luebeck._

_At the left is a tavern with a sign-board bearing the inscription: "The Golden Apple." There are trees in front of it, and under these tables and benches. Next the foreground is a bower with a table and benches within it_.

_The hillside of Brunkeberg forms the background. It contains a number of gallows, wheels, and similar paraphernalia._

_There is a bench in front of the Hanseatic office_.

AGDA _and_ KARIN _are standing at the fountain when the curtain rises_. AGDA _carries a water-jar, while_ KARIN _has a basket full of flowers and wreaths_.

AGDA. You ask what that big red house is? It used to be the Convent of St. Clara. Now it is the Hanseatic office.

KAREN. Do they ever buy any flowers there?

AGDA. Not now, I think. I used to bring flowers there when an image of the Virgin Mary stood at the corner.--I wish she were there still!

KARIN. What do they do in that house? They tell so many queer stories about it, and no one is ever admitted....

AGDA. Have you heard that, too? I suppose they buy and sell, like all that come from Luebeck.

KARIN. Of course, but they say that people have disappeared in that house and that those who live there are heathens who sacrifice....

AGDA. You have heard that, too? But it can't be true! Do you think so?

KARIN. How could I tell? And why are you so disturbed by those stories? [AGDA _does not reply_] Gossip says that you used to have a friend in there. Is it true?

AGDA. Well, as you have heard about it But whether he still be there Oh, if I only knew!

KARIN. I'll ring and ask.

AGDA. No, no! You don't know what kind of people they are!

KARIN. Do you think they'll eat me? [_She goes up to the gateway and putts a string; a bell is heard ringing inside_] Listen! That's the old vesper bell! I know it! Bing-bong! Bing-bong!

AGDA. Stop it! Somebody might come.

KARIN. Isn't that what we want? But no one does come, my dear.--It's a gruesome place. And I shall leave it alone now.--Do you know Prince Eric, Agda?

AGDA. Yes, it was on his account they closed up the Blue Dove. Now I am working over there, at the Golden Apple.

KARIN. They say that he used to be very polite to you.

AGDA. No, he was most impolite, not to say nasty.

KARIN. He had been drinking then. Otherwise he is merely miserable, they say.

AGDA. Do you know him?

KARIN. No, I have only seen him, but I cannot forget his sad eyes and his long face. He looks so much like a doll I had once--I called it Blinkie Bloodless.... I suppose they are not kind to him at home, either.

AGDA. Probably not, but a man has no right to act like a brute because he is unhappy.

KARIN. Why do you talk like that? He drinks a lot of wine, like most young men and Hush! Somebody is coming....

AGDA. Good-bye, Karin. I have to run....

[_She hurries into the tavern at the left_.

KARIN. [_As she goes to the right_] I'll be back.

PRINCE ERIC _and_ JORGHEN PERSSON _enter from the rear_.

ERIC. Here's my new well-spring of wine. Come quick to the bower here.

JORGHEN. And Agda is here, too!

ERIC. Well, what of it? [_Rapping on the table_.

AGDA _appears_.

ERIC. [_To_ AGDA] Bring us some Rhine wine and then make yourself invisible. [_To_ JORGHEN] You know, Jorghen, I am facing a crucial moment and must be ready to act at once. The King has lost his reason and is committing acts that cannot be defended! Yesterday he cut off the heads of those Dalecarlians. To-day comes the news that his troops have been beaten by the peasants of Småland, who are now crossing Holaved Forest.[1] Now the Dalecarlians will rise, of course, and everything is lost.

JORGHEN. What does that concern us? Let the world perish, and I shall laugh at it.

ERIC. But this is what beats everything else for madness. Finding his treasury empty, the King, in his incredible simplicity, tries to borrow money from these Luebeckians, who are his enemies.

JORGHEN. Well, if you need money, your enemies are the best ones to take it from.

ERIC. If I am not crazy already, you'll make me so! Please be serious a moment!

JORGHEN. [_Recites_]

"The ring of gold, and rattling dice, And wine brings light to tipsy eyes. But in the night, that light must lack, To wenches leads each crooked track."

_At that moment_ AGDA _appears with the wine_.

ERIC. [_Laughing idiotically at_ JORGHEN'S _recitation_] Ha-ha! That's a good one. But then, I made it myself.--Well, Agda, or Magda, or what it is, where's your pawnbroker to-day?

AGDA _does not reply_.

ERIC. Do you know that those Hanseatic people are in the habit of butchering little boys and selling them to the Turk?

AGDA. Is that true?

ERIC. There is some truth in it, I think.

JORGHEN. Let the maiden go before she begins to cry. I can't bear tears.

ERIC. I suppose you have never cried, Jorghen?

JORGHEN. Twice: when I was born, and once after that--out of rage.

ERIC. You are a beast, Jorghen.

AGDA _goes back into the tavern_.

JORGHEN. However--you wish to figure out what is to happen, and to form a decision on the basis of your false calculations. Have you not noticed how all our plans are foiled? That's the game of the gods. Sometimes we act wisely, and everything goes to the devil, and then we act like fools, and everything turns out right. It's nothing but humbug--all of it!

ERIC. I think so, too, and yet there must be some sort of sense in it.

JORGHEN. Not as far as I can see. It's just like dicing.

ERIC. Let the dice rattle, then!

JORGHEN. Let them rattle! That's the right word for it. Now it's a question of head or tail, however--whether the King is to be the tail, and the man from Småland the head.... Look, who comes here!

KARIN _enters from the right_.

ERIC. [_Staring at her_] Who--is--that?

JORGHEN. A flower girl.

ERIC. No--this is--something else! Do you see?

JORGHEN. What?

ERIC. What I see--but, of course, you can't.

KARIN _comes forward, kneels before_ ERIC _and offers him a wreath_.

ERIC. [_Rises, takes the wreath and places it on the head of_ KAREN; _then to_ JORGHEN] Look! Now the wreath has been added to the crown.[2]

JORGHEN. What crown?

ERIC. Didn't you see? [_To_ KARIN] Get up, child! You should not be kneeling to me, but I to you. I don't want to ask your name, for I know who you are, although I have never seen you or heard of you before.--What do you ask of me? Speak!

KAREN. [_Unaffectedly_] That your Grace buy my flowers.

ERIC. Put your flowers there. [_He takes a ring from one cf his fingers and gives it to her_] There!

KARIN. No, I cannot wear that ring, your Grace--it's much too grand for me. And if I try to sell it, I shall be seized as a thief.

ERIC. You are as wise as you are beautiful.

[_He gives her money_.

KARIN. I thank your Grace, but it is too much.

ERIC. As you named no price, I can do so myself.

KARIN _goes out. A long pause follows_.

ERIC. Did you see?

JORGHEN. Not a thing.

ERIC. Didn't you hear, either? Didn't you notice her voice?

JORGHEN. A voice like that of any jade--rather pert.

ERIC. Stop your tongue, Jorghen! I love her!

JORGHEN. She is not the first.

ERIC. Yes, the first, and the only one!

JORGHEN. Well, seduce her if you must.

ERIC. [_Drawing his sword_] Take care, or by God!...

JORGHEN. Have we now got to the poking point again?

ERIC. I don't know what has happened, but this moment has made me despise you. The same city can't hold you and me. Your eyes defile me, and your whole being stinks. I shall leave you, and I don't want to see you face to face again.--It is as if an angel had come to take me away from the habitations of the damned. I despise my whole past, as I despise you and myself.

[_He goes out in the same direction as_ KARIN _went before_.

JORGHEN. Seems to be serious this time. But I guess you'll come back. [_He raps on the table_.

AGDA _appears_.

JORGHEN. Do you know Karin, the flower girl?

AGDA. Yes, I do.

JORGHEN. What kind of a piece is she?

AGDA. A nice and decent girl, of whom I have never heard anything bad.

JORGHEN. Can you see anything beautiful about her?

AGDA. No, but she is rather pretty, and there is like a halo of sweetness about her.

JORGHEN. Oh, it was that he saw, then!

AGDA. Tell me, secretary, are you really as hard as people say?

JORGHEN. I am not hard to anybody, child, but the world has been hard to me ever since I was born.

AGDA. Why don't you always speak like that?

JORGHEN However, the Prince is enamoured, bewitched.

AGDA. Poor fellow!--Tell me, secretary, is the Prince quite right?

JORGHEN. You and your questions are very amusing. Let me ask you one now. Hm! Do you think a woman could possibly--hm!--love me?

AGDA. No, I don't. [JORGHEN _looks offended_] Not unless you try to be good.

JORGHEN. How the devil is that to be done?

AGDA. Shame! Shame!

JORGHEN. If you never see anything good, how can you believe in it?

AGDA. Tell me, secretary, did the Prince mean what he said about the Hanseatic people and what they are doing in that house?

JORGHEN. No, child! That was only a cruel jest. But no Swedish authority can interfere with what they are doing in there. That much you should know, if you are worrying about your Jacob.

AGDA. Will you do me a favour? It won't cost you anything.

JORGHEN. With the greatest pleasure, my dear girl.

AGDA. Find Jacob for me! He had promised to meet me, and he never came. We have been ringing the bell at the door, but no one answers.

JORGHEN. I don't want to hurt you, Agda, but unfortunately I have reason to believe that all the Luebeck people have gone away on account of the new rebellion.

AGDA. And he won't come back, you think?

JORGHEN. I don't like to prophesy, because it generally turns out the other way, but I don't think he will be back soon.

AGDA. [_Sinking to the ground_] Lord Jesus!

JORGHEN. [_Rises and helps her to her feet_] What is it, girl?--Tell me! [_in a lower voice_] A child?

AGDA. He had given me his promise.

JORGHEN. [_Genuinely moved_] Poor woman!

AGDA _watches him closely_.

JORGHEN. Misery, always misery, wherever love gets in its work!

AGDA. And you don't despise me?

JORGHEN. I pity you, as I pity all of us.

AGDA. Can you see now that good exists?

JORGHEN. Where?

AGDA. Within yourself.

JORGHEN. Pooh!--Is there anything else I can do for you?

AGDA. Yes, secretary, if you would write to Luebeck and ask Jacob....

JORGHEN. I have not much use for love-affairs, but I'll write, nevertheless, provided we find that he really has gone away.

AGDA. [_Tries to kiss his hand, which he pulls away_] Thank you!

JORGHEN. What are you doing, woman? I am no bishop!--But hush! Here comes illustrious company. So I think I'll sneak off!

_The stage has grown darker in the meantime_.

AGDA. Please, secretary, don't forget me now!

JORGHEN. So you don't trust me? Well, there is not much to trust in! [_He goes out to the left_.

_The_ KING _enters, wearing his big blue cloak and his soft black hat. He is using his boarspear as a staff._

PRINCE JOHAN _is with him, dressed very simply, as if to avoid recognition_.

KING. [_Looking about_] Do you think we have been recognised?

JOHAN. No, I don't think so, father.

KING. Bing, then.

JOHAN. [_Putts the bell-rope outside the Hanseatic office]_ The bell does not ring.

KING. Knock.

JOHAN. [_Rapping on the door_] Nobody seems to answer.

KING. [_Seating himself on the bench outside_] I must get hold of Herman Israel this very evening--I must!

JOHAN. You are worried, father?

KING. I am certainly not at ease. [_Pause_.

JOHAN. Money cares again?

KING. Oh, don't talk of it!--Knock again.

JOHAN. [_Rapping at the door_] There is no one there.

_A crowd of beggars enter and kneel in front of the_ KING _with hands held out in supplication_.

KING. Are you mocking me?

FIRST BEGGAR. We are perishing, my noble lord!

KING. I am perishing, too!--Why are you begging, anyhow?

SECOND BEGGAR. I'll tell you. Because the King has seized the tithes that went to the poor before. And when he did so, he said: "You can beg!"

KING. And what is he doing with the tithes of the poor?

FIRST BEGGAR. Paying Prince Eric's le-lecheries!

KING. No, paying the country's debt, you knaves! [_To_ JOHAN] Give them money, so we get rid of them.

JOHAN. [_Distributing coins_] You'll have to share it between you, and then away--at once!

_The beggars leave_.

KING. I wonder who sent them? Somebody must have sent them!--Knock again. [JOHAN _does so_] What unspeakable humiliation! You see, my son, that no matter how high up you get, new and then you have to climb down again. But of anything like this I never dreamt.

[_He takes off his hat and wipes his forehead_.

JOHAN. May I speak?

KING. No, you may not, for I know what you mean to say.

MONS NILSSON'S _widow enters, led by_ BARBRO. _Both are in mourning, and_ BARBRO _carries a document in her hand_.

BARBRO. [_To her mother_] That must be the Councillor himself.

WIDOW. Can that be Herman Israel who is sitting there? My eyes have grown blind with sorrow.

BARBRO. It must be him.

_The two women approach the_ KING.

BARBRO. [To _the_ KING] Are you the Councillor?

KING. What do you want of him?

BARBRO. Mr. Syndic, we are the bereaved dependents of Mons Nilsson, and we have come to pray that you put in a good word for us with the King.

KING. Why do you think the Councillor's word will be of any help?

BARBRO. We have been told that he is the King's only friend, and we thought he might help us to get back the property of which we have been unjustly deprived.

KING. Unjustly, you say? As a traitor, Mons Nilsson was judged forfeit of life _and_ goods--which was only just!

BARBRO. But the dower of the innocent widow should not have been taken with the rest.

KING. What is your name?

BARBRO. I was baptised with the name of Barbro, and the King himself acted as my godfather when he was in Dalecarlia at that time.

KING. [_Rises, but sits down again immediately_] Barbro?--Have you ever seen the King?

BARBRO. Not since I was too small to know him. But the last time he visited Copperberg, my father was expecting him, and we children were to greet him with a song.

KING. What song was that?

BARBRO. I cannot sing since my father came to his death so miserably, but it was a song about King Gustavus and the Dalecarlians, and this is the way it ended:

"You have by my side been fighting Like sturdy Swedish men. If God will spare my life-blood, I'll do you good in stead."

KING. Say something really bad about the King!

BARBRO. No, father told us we must never do that, no matter what we might hear other people say.

KING. Did your father tell you that?

BARBRO. Yes, he did.

KING. Go in peace now. I shall speak to the King, and you shall have your rights, for he wants to do right, and he tries to do it.

BARBRO. [_Kneels and takes hold of the_ KING'S _hand, which she kisses_] If the King were as gracious as you are, Councillor, there would be no cause for worry.

KING. [_Placing his hand on_ BARBRO'S _head_] He is, my child, and I know that he won't refuse his goddaughter anything. Go in peace now!

_The two women leave_.

KING. [_To_ JOHAN] Who can have sent them? Who?--Here I have to sit like a defendant--I, the highest judge of the land!

JOHAN. May I say a word?

KING. No, because I can tell myself what you want to say. I can tell that the hand of the Lord has been laid heavily upon me, although I cannot tell why. If the Lord speaks through conscience and prayer, then it is he who has made me act as I have acted. Why my obedience should be punished, I cannot grasp. But I submit to a higher wisdom that lies beyond my reason.--That girl was my goddaughter, and her father was my friend, and I had to take his head.... Oh, cruel life, that has to be lived nevertheless! [_Pause_] Knock again.

MARCUS. [_In travelling clothes, enters from the right_] Your Highness! [_He kneels_.

KING. Still more?

MARCUS. A message from Herman Israel.

KING. At last!--Speak!

MARCUS. Herman Israel has this afternoon set sail for Luebeck.

KING. [_Rising_] Then I am lost!--God help me!

JOHAN. And all of us!

_The_ KING _and_ JOHAN _go out_. MARCUS _goes over to the tavern and raps on one of the tables_.

AGDA. [_Appearing_] Is that you, Marcus?

MARCUS. Yes, Agda, it's me.

AGDA. Where is Jacob?

MARCUS. He has started on a journey--a very long one.

AGDA. Where?

MARCUS. I cannot tell. But he asked me to bring you his greeting and to give you this ring.

AGDA. As a keepsake only, or as a plight of his troth?

MARCUS. Read what it says.

AGDA. [_Studying the ring_] Yes, I can spell a little "For ever," it says. What does it mean?

MARCUS. I fear it means--farewell for ever.

AGDA. [_With a cry_] No, no, it means that he is dead!

MARCUS _does not answer_.

AGDA. Who killed him?

MARCUS. The law and his own crime. He rebelled against his father and his country.

AGDA. To save mine!--Oh, what is to become of me?

MARCUS. [_Shrugging his shoulders_] That's the way of the world. Nothing but deceit and uncertainty.

AGDA. Alas, he was like all the rest!

MARCUS. Yes, all human beings are pretty much alike. He who is no worse than the rest is no better, either. Good-bye!

_Curtain_.

SECOND SCENE

_The study of_ MASTER OLAVUS PETRI. _There is a door on either side of the room_.

OLAVUS _is writing at a table_.

CHRISTINE _is standing beside the table with a letter in her hand._

CHRISTINE. Do I disturb you?

OLAVUS. [_Quietly and coldly_] Naturally, as I am writing.

CHRISTINE. Are you sure that you are writing?

OLAVUS. Absolutely sure.

CHRISTINE. But I have not seen your pen move for a long while.

OLAVUS. That was because I was thinking.

CHRISTINE. Once....

OLAVUS. Yes, once upon a time!

CHRISTINE. Can Reginald come in and say good-bye?

OLAVUS. Are we that far already?

CHRISTINE. The carriage is waiting and all his things have been packed.

OLAVUS. Let him come, then.

CHRISTINE. Are you certain that he is going to Wittenberg to study?

OLAVUS. I have seen too much uncertainty, as you know, to be certain of anything. If you have reason to doubt the feasibility of his plans, you had better say so.

CHRISTINE. If I had any doubts, I would not disturb you with them.

OLAVUS. Always equally amiable! Will you please ask Reginald to come here?

CHRISTINE. I'll do whatever you command.

OLAVUS. And as I never command, but merely ask....

CHRISTINE. If you would command your precious son now and then, he might be a little more polite and obedient to his mother.

OLAVUS. Reginald is hard, I admit, but you do wrong in trying to educate him to suit your own high pleasure.

CHRISTINE. Do you side with the children against their parents?

OLAVUS. If I am not mistaken, I have always done so when the natural rights of the children were concerned.

CHRISTINE. Have the children any natural rights to anything?

OLAVUS. Of course, they have! You haven't forgotten how we....

CHRISTINE. Yes, I have forgotten every bit of that old tommy-rot! I have forgotten how you swore to love me. I have forgotten the noise made about the pope's beard, and the stealing of the church silver, and the humbug with the bells, and the _pure_ faith, and roast ducks and cackling swans, and martyrs with a taste for fighting, and the following of Christ with wine and women, and the scratching of eyes and tearing of hair, until we now have twenty-five brand new faiths in place of a holy Catholic Church.... I have forgotten every bit of it!

OLAVUS. Perhaps that was the best thing you could do. And will you please ask Reginald to come here now?

CHRISTINE. Certainly, I'll ask him to come here, and it will be a great pleasure to do so. [_She goes out to the left_.

OLAVUS. [_Alone, speaking to himself_] Happy she, who has been able to forget! I remember everything!

CHRISTINE _returns with_ REGINALD.

REGINALD. I want mother to go out, because I can't talk when she is here.

OLAVUS. There won't be so very much to talk about.

CHRISTINE. I won't say a word; only listen--and look at you. [_She seats herself_.

REGINALD. No, you mustn't look at us.

OLAVUS. Be quiet, boy, and be civil to your mother! When you go travelling, there is no telling whether you ever come back.

REGINALD. So much the better!

OLAVUS. [_Painfully impressed_] What's that?

REGINALD. I am tired of everything, and I just wish I were dead!

OLAVUS. Yes, that's the way youth talks nowadays!

REGINALD. And why? Because we don't know what to believe!

OLAVUS. Oh, you don't? And how about the articles of confession? Don't you believe in them?

REGINALD. Believe, you say? Don't you know that belief comes as a grace of God?

OLAVUS. Are you a Calvinist?

REGINALD. I don't know what I am. When I talk with Prince Johan, he says I am a papist, and when I meet Prince Eric, he tells me I am a follower of Zwingli.

OLAVUS. And now you wish to go to Wittenberg to learn the true faith from Doctor Martin Luther?

REGINALD. I know his teachings and don't believe in them,

OLAVUS. Is that so?

REGINALD. To him belief is everything, and deeds nothing. I have believed, but it didn't make my deeds any better at all, and so I felt like a perfect hypocrite in the end.

OLAVUS. Is Prince Johan a Catholic?

REGINALD. So he must be, as he sticks to deeds, which ought to be the main thing.

OLAVUS. And Prince Eric belongs to the Reformed Church, you say?

REGINALD. Yes, in so far as he believes in the dispensation of grace. And Jorghen Persson must be a Satanist, I think. And young Sture is absolutely an Anabaptist....

OLAVUS. Well, this is news to me! I thought the days of schism were past....

REGINALD. Schism, yes--that's the word Prince Johan is using always. We had a Catholic Church, and then....

OLAVUS. Oh, shut your mouth and go to Wittenberg!

REGINALD. As it is your wish, father--but I won't study any more theology.

OLAVUS. Why not?

REGINALD. I think it is device of the devil to make people hate each other.

CHRISTINE. Good for you, Reginald!

OLAVUS. And it had to come to this in my own house! _Pulchre, bene, rede!_--Who, Reginald, do you think has caused this dissension under which you young people are suffering now?

REGINALD. That's easily answered.

OLAVUS. Of course! We old ones, you mean? But we, too, were children of our time, and were stripped of our faith by our prophets. Who is, then, to blame?

REGINALD. No one.

OLAVUS. And what do you mean to do with your future?

REGINALD. My future? It appears to me like a grey mist without a ray of sunlight. And should a ray ever break through, it will at once be proved a will-o'-the-wisp leading us astray.

OLAVUS. That's just how I felt once! At your age I could see my whole future as in vision. I foresaw the bitter cup and the pillory. And yet I had to go on. I had to enter the mist, and I myself had to carry the will-o'-the-wisp that _must_ lead the wanderers astray. I foretold this very moment, even, when my son would stand before me saying: "Thus I am, because thus you have made me!" You noticed, perhaps, that I was not surprised--and this is the reason.

REGINALD. What am I to do? Advise me!

OLAVUS. You, no more than I, will follow the advices given you.

REGINALD. Inform me, then! Tell me: what is life?

OLAVUS. That's more than I know. But I think it must be a punishment or an ordeal. At your years I thought I knew everything and understood everything. Now I know nothing and understand nothing. For that reason I rest satisfied with doing my duty and bearing what comes my way.

REGINALD. But I want to know!

OLAVUS. You want to know what is not allowed to be known. Try to know and you will perish!--However, do you want to go or stay?

REGINALD. I am going to Wittenberg to pull Luther to pieces!

OLAVUS. [_Wholly without irony_] That's the way to speak! O thou splendid youth with thy Alexandrian regret that there are no more things to pull to pieces!

REGINALD. Are you not a Lutheran?

OLAVUS. I am a Protestant.

CHRISTINE. If you have finished now, I shall ask permission to tell in a single word what Luther is--just one word!

OLAVUS. Oh, do, before you burst!

CHRISTINE. Luther is dead!

OLAVUS. Dead?

CHRISTINE. That's what my brother-in-law writes me in this letter from Magdeburg.

OLAVUS. [_Rising_] Dead! [_To_ REGINALD] My poor Alexander, what will you pull to pieces now?

REGINALD. First the universe, and then myself.

OLAVUS. [_Pushing him toward the door at the left_] Go ahead, then, but begin with yourself. The universe will always remain.

CHRISTINE. [_As she rises and is about to go out with_ REGINALD] Will there be peace on earth now?

OLAVUS. That will never be!--Let me have that letter.

CHRISTINE _and_ REGINALD _go out to the left_.

_While_ OLAVUS _is reading the letter, a hard knock is heard at the right-hand door_.

OLAVUS. Come!

_The knock is repeated_. OLAVUS _goes to the door and opens it. The_ KING _enters, wearing his big hat and his cloak, which he throws of_.

OLAVUS. The King!

KING. [_Very excited_] Yes, but for how long? Do you know who Dacke is?--A farm labourer who has killed a bailiff; a common thief and incendiary, who is now writing to me with a demand of answer. I am to take pen in hand and open correspondence with a scamp like him! Do you know that he has crossed the Kolmord Forests and stands with one foot in West Gothia and the other in East Gothia?--Who is back of him? The Emperor, the Elector Frederick of the Palatinate, Magnus Haraldsson, the runaway Bishop of Skara, the Duke of Mecklenburg. The Emperor wishes to put the children of Christian the Tyrant back on the throne.[3] But what troubles me more than anything else is to find the Luebeckians and Herman Israel on the same side--my old friend Herman! I ask you how it can be possible. And who has done this to me? Who?--Have you not a word to say?

OLAVUS. What can I say, and what--_may_ I say?

KING. Don't be hard on me, Olof, and don't be vengeful, I am nothing but an unfortunate human creature who has had to drink humiliation like water, and I come to you as my spiritual guide. I am in despair because I fear that the Lord has deserted me for ever.--What an infernal notion of mine that was to take the head of the Dalecarlians just now, when I am in such need of them! Do you think that deed was displeasing to the Lord? But if I have sinned like David, you must be my Nathan.

OLAVUS. I have lost the power of prophecy, and I am not the right man to inflict punishment.

KING. Console me, then, Olof.

OLAVUS. I cannot, because only those who repent can accept consolation.

KING. You mean that I have transgressed--that I have gone too far? Speak up! But do it like a servant of the Lord, and not like a conceited schoolmaster.... Have I gone too far?

OLAVUS. That is not the way to put the question. The proper way is to ask whether the others have any right on their side.

KING. Go ahead and ask!

OLAVUS. Dacke is the mouthpiece of warranted dissatisfaction. Being the brother-in-law of Christian II, the Emperor is the guardian of his children, and they have inherited a claim to the Swedish throne, as the constitution cannot be cancelled by a rebellion.[4] Bishop Magnus Haraldsson is the spokesman of all the illegally exiled bishops.

KING. Illegally, you say?

OLAVUS. [_Raising his voice_] Yes, because the law of Sweden does not drive any man away on account of his faith.

KING. Take care!

OLAVUS. Too late now!--The dissatisfaction of the peasants is warranted, because the Riksdag at Vesterås authorised the King to seize only the property of bishops and convents. When he took what belonged to parish churches and private persons, he became guilty of a crime.

KING. You are a daring man!

OLAVUS. Nothing compared with what I used to be!--As far as Herman Israel is concerned, he called recently on the King to offer a treaty of friendship, and it was stupid of the King to reject it.

KING. Stop!

OLAVUS. Not yet!--The gold and silver of the churches was meant to pay the debt to Luebeck, and much of it was used for that purpose, but a considerable part found its way to Eskil's Chamber under the Royal Palace, and has since been wasted on Prince Eric's silly courtships among other things....

KING. The devil you say!

OLAVUS. Well, Queen Elizabeth is merely making fun of him.

KING. Do you know that?

OLAVUS. I do.--The bells were also to be used in payment of the debt to Luebeck, but a part of them went to the foundry and were turned into cannon, which was not right.

KING. Is that so?

OLAVUS. Add also that the Convent of Vreta was left unmolested in violation of the ordinance concerning the closing of all such places--and for no other reason than that the King's mother-in-law happened to be a Catholic. This is a cowardly and mischievous omission that has caused much bad blood.

KING. The convent is to be closed.

OLAVUS. It should be closed _now_, and it is not!--If I were to sum up what is reprehensible in my great King, I should call it a lack of piety.

KING. That's the worst yet! What do you mean?

OLAVUS. Piety is the respect shown by the stronger even if he be a man of destiny--for the feelings of the weaker, when these spring from a childlike, and for that reason religious, mind.

KING. Oh, is that what it is?

OLAVUS. Now I have said my say.

KING. Yes, so you have--time and again.

OLAVUS. And if my King had been willing to listen now and then, he would have learned a great deal more. But it is a common fault of princes that they won't listen to anybody but themselves.

KING. Well, I never heard the like of it! I am astounded--most of all because I haven't killed you on the spot!

OLAVUS. Why don't you?

KING. [_Rises and goes toward_ OLAVUS, _who remains standing unabashed, looking firmly at the approaching_ KING; _the latter withdraws backward and sits down again; for a few moments the two men stare at each other in silence; then the_ KING _says]_ Who are you?

OLAVUS. A humble instrument of the Lord, shaped to serve what is really great--that marvellous man of God, to whom it was granted to unite all Swedish men and lands.

KING. That was granted Engelbrecht, too, and his reward was the axe that split his head.[5] Is that to be my reward, too?

OLAVUS. I don't think so, your Highness, but it depends on yourself.

KING. What am I to do?

OLAVUS. What you advised me to do when I was carried away by the zeal of my youth.

KING. And you think it necessary to return that advice to me now?

OLAVUS. Why not? I have learned from life, and you have forgotten.

KING. What am I to do?

OLAVUS. Answer Dacke's letter.

KING. Never! Am I to bow down to a vagabond?

OLAVUS. The Lord sometimes uses mere vagabonds for our humiliation. Picture it to yourself as an ordeal by fire.

KING. [_Rising and walking the floor_] There is truth in what you say. I can feel it, but it does not fetch bottom in my mind. Say one word more.

OLAVUS. Dacke will be right as long as you are in the wrong, and God will be with him until you take your place on the side of right.

KING. I can't bend!

OLAVUS. Then you'll be broken by someone else.

KING. [_Walking back and forth_] Are you thinking of the Dalecarlians? Have you heard of a rising among them on account of the executions?

OLAVUS. Such a thing has been rumoured.

KING. I am lost.

OLAVUS. Write to Dacke!

KING. [_Without conviction_] I won't.

OLAVUS. The Emperor does.

KING. That's true! If the Emperor can write to him, why shouldn't I?--But it is perfectly senseless. Who is this mysterious man who never appears?

OLAVUS. Perhaps another marvellous man of God--in his own way.

KING. I must see him face to face. I'll write and offer him safe-conduct, so that I can talk with him. That's what I'll do.--Bring me pen and paper! Or you write, and I'll dictate.

OLAVUS _seats himself at the table_.

KING. How do we begin? What am I to call him?

OLAVUS. Let us merely put down "To Nils Dacke."

KING. Oh, his name is Nils? After St. Nicolaus, who comes with rods for children on the sixth of December?[6] [_Pause_] Write now.... No, I'll go home and do the writing myself.... Have you heard that Luther is dead?

OLAVUS. I have, your Highness.

KING. He was a splendid man! May he rest in peace!--Yes, such as he was, he was a fine man, but we got rather too much of him.

OLAVUS. Too many dogmas and not enough of religion.

KING. He was an obstinate fellow and went too far. What he needed was a taskmaster like you to call him to terms now and then.

OLAVUS. I hope the time of schism and dissension will come to an end now.

KING. A time of dissension you may well call it!--Good-bye, Olof. [_As_ OLAVUS _makes a mien of saying something_] Yes, yes, I _will_ write!

_Curtain_.

[1] A rough and inaccessible forest region on the eastern shore of Lake Vettern, marking the border-line between the province of Småland in the south and Ostergötland (East Gothia) in the north.

[2] As far back as we know the two principal ornaments of a Swedish bride have been the crown--sometimes woven out of myrtle and sometimes made of metal and semi-precious stones--and the wreath, always made of myrtle.

[3] The Elector Frederick was a son-in-law of the deposed Christian II of Denmark, and also one of the trusted liegemen of Emperor Charles V, who hoped to see him the head of a reunited Scandinavia dominated by German influences.

[4] Christian II was married to Isabelle, sister of Charles V.

[5] Engelbrecht Engelbrechtsson, a free miner of Dalecarlia, was the first one of a series of notable chieftains who led the Swedish people in their determination to rid the country of the Danish kings after these had shown a growing inclination to treat Sweden as a Danish province, and not as an independent kingdom, united on equal terms with Denmark and Norway. At the head of the Dalecarlians, Engelbrecht began the work of liberation in 1434, and was remarkably successful in a short time. Unfortunately, he was treacherously and shamefully killed while crossing the Lake Maelaren only two years later. To the Swedes he has ever since been the symbol of their national independence and unity, and he, the simple country squire, remains to this day one of the most beloved and revered figures in Swedish history. It is to him Barbro refers in the opening scenes of the play, and his name is heard again in the closing scenes, with the appearance of his simpler namesake.

[6] An old Swedish custom and superstition, prescribing that every child must be spanked on the date mentioned in order to insure its obedience during the whole ensuing year. That custom still survived when the translator was a child, although for many decades the spanking had been a mere formality serving as an excuse for some little gift or treat.