Chapter 4
DAGNY. And to use them too; thou strikest surely, Hiordis! All that thou hast said to me--I have never thought of before. (More vehemently.) But that Sigurd----! That for all these years I should have made his life heavy and unhonoured;--no, no, it cannot be true!
HIORDIS. Nay now, comfort thee, Dagny; indeed it is not true. Were Sigurd of the same mind as in former days, it might be true enough; for then was his whole soul bent on being the foremost man in the land;--now he is content with a lowlier lot.
DAGNY. No, Hiordis; Sigurd is high-minded now as ever; I see it well, I am not the right mate for him. He has hidden it from me; but it shall be so no longer.
HIORDIS. What wilt thou do?
DAGNY. I will no longer hang like a clog upon his feet; I will be a hindrance to him no longer.
HIORDIS. Then thou wilt----?
DAGNY. Peace; some one comes!
(A House-carl enters from the back.)
THE CARL. Sigurd Viking is coming to the hall.
HIORDIS. Sigurd! Then call Gunnar hither.
THE CARL. Gunnar has ridden forth to gather his neighbours together; for Kare the Peasant would----
HIORDIS. Good, good, I know it; go! (The Carl goes. To DAGNY, who is also going.) Whither wilt thou?
DAGNY. I will not meet Sigurd. Too well I feel that we must part; but to meet him now--no, no, I cannot!
(Goes out to the left.)
HIORDIS (looks after her in silence for a moment). And it was she I would have---- (completes her thought by a glance at the bow-string). That would have been a poor revenge;--nay, I have cut deeper now! Hm; it is hard to die, but sometimes it is harder still to live!
(SIGURD enters from the back.)
HIORDIS. Doubtless thou seekest Gunnar; be seated, he will be here even now.
(Is going.)
SIGURD. Nay, stay; it is thee I seek, rather than him.
HIORDIS. Me?
SIGURD. And 'tis well I find thee alone.
HIORDIS. If thou comest to mock me, it would sure be no hindrance to thee though the hall were full of men and women.
SIGURD. Ay, ay, well I know what thoughts thou hast of me.
HIORDIS (bitterly). I do thee wrong mayhap! Nay, nay, Sigurd, thou hast been as a poison to all my days. Bethink thee who it was that wrought that shameful guile; who it was that lay by my side in the bower, feigning love with the laugh of cunning in his heart; who it was that flung me forth to Gunnar, since for him I was good enough, forsooth--and then sailed away with the woman he held dear!
SIGURD. Man's will can do this and that; but fate rules in the deeds that shape our lives--so has it gone with us twain.
HIORDIS. True enough; evil Norns hold sway over the world; but their might is little if they find not helpers in our own heart. Happy is he who has strength to battle with the Norn--and it is that I have now in hand.
SIGURD. What mean'st thou?
HIORDIS. I will essay a trial of strength against those--those who are over me. But let us not talk more of this; I have much to do to- day. (She seats herself at the table.)
SIGURD (after a pause). Thou makest good weapons for Gunnar.
HIORDIS (with a quiet smile). Not for Gunnar, but against thee.
SIGURD. Most like it is the same thing.
HIORDIS. Ay, most like it is; for if I be a match for the Norn, then sooner or later shalt thou and Gunnar---- (breaks off, leans backwards against the table, and says with an altered ring in her voice:) Hm; knowest thou what I sometimes dream? I have often made it my pastime to limn pleasant pictures in my mind; I sit and close my eyes and think: Now comes Sigurd the Strong to the isle;--he will burn us in our house, me and my husband. All Gunnar's men have fallen; only he and I are left; they set light to the roof from without:--"A bow-shot," cries Gunnar, "one bow-shot may save us;"-- then the bow-string breaks--"Hiordis, cut a tress of thy hair and make a bow-string of it,--our life is at stake." But then I laugh-- "Let it burn, let it burn--to me, life is not worth a handful of hair!"
SIGURD. There is a strange might in all thy speech. (Approaches her.)
HIORDIS (looks coldly at him). Wouldst sit beside me?
SIGURD. Thou deemest my heart is bitter towards thee. Hiordis, this is the last time we shall have speech together; there is something that gnaws me like a sore sickness, and thus I cannot part from thee; thou must know me better.
HIORDIS. What wouldst thou?
SIGURD. Tell thee a saga.
HIORDIS. Is it sad?
SIGURD. Sad, as life itself.
HIORDIS (bitterly). What knowest thou of the sadness of life?
SIGURD. Judge when my saga is over.
HIORDIS. Then tell it me; I shall work the while.
(He sits on a low stool to her right.)
SIGURD. Once upon a time there were two young vikings, who set forth from Norway to win wealth and honour; they had sworn each other friendship; and held truly together, how far soever thy might fare.
HIORDIS. And the two young vikings hight Sigurd and Gunnar?
SIGURD. Ay, we may call them so. At last they came to Iceland; and there dwelt an old chieftain, who had come forth from Norway in King Harald's days. He had two fair women in his house; but one, his foster-daughter, was the noblest, for she was wise and strong of soul; and the vikings spoke of her between themselves, and never had they seen a fairer woman, so deemed they both.
HIORDIS (in suspense). Both? Wilt thou mock me?
SIGURD. Gunnar thought of her night and day, and that did Sigurd no less; but both held their peace, and no man could say from her bearing whether Gunnar found favour in her eyes; but that Sigurd misliked her, that was easy to discern.
HIORDIS (breathlessly). Go on, go on----!
SIGURD. Yet ever the more must Sigurd dream of her; but of that wist no man. Now it befell one evening that there was a drinking-feast; and then swore that proud woman that no man should possess her save he who wrought a mighty deed, which she named. High beat Sigurd's heart for joy; for he felt within him the strength to do that deed; but Gunnar took him apart and told him of his love;--Sigurd said naught of his, but went to the----
HIORDIS (vehemently). Sigurd, Sigurd! (Controlling herself.) And this saga--is it true?
SIGURD. True it is. One of us had to yield; Gunnar was my friend; I could do aught else. So thou becamest Gunnar's wife, and I wedded another woman.
HIORDIS. And came to love her!
SIGURD. I learned to prize her; but one woman only has Sigurd loved, and that is she who frowned upon him from the first day they met. Here ends my saga; and now let us part.--Farewell, Gunnar's wife; never shall we meet again.
HIORDIS (springing up). Stay, stay! Woe to us both; Sigurd, what hast thou done?
SIGURD (starting). I, done? What ails thee?
HIORDIS. And all this dost thou tell me now! But no--it cannot be true!
SIGURD. These are my last words to thee, and every word is true. I would not thou shouldst think hardly of me, therefore I needs must speak.
HIORDIS (involuntarily clasps her hands together and gazes at him in voiceless astonishment). Loved--loved me--thou! (Vehemently, coming close up to him.) I will not believe thee! (Looks hard at him.) Yes, it is true, and--baleful for us both!
(Hides her face in her hands, and turns away from him.)
SIGURD (terror-stricken). Hiordis!
HIORDIS (softly, struggling with tears and laughter). Nay, heed me not! This was all I meant, that---- (Lays her hand on his arm.) Sigurd, thou hast not told thy saga to the end; that proud woman thou didst tell of--she returned thy love!
SIGURD (starts backwards). Thou?
HIORDIS (with composure). Yes, Sigurd, I have loved thee, at last I understand it. Thou sayest I was ungentle and short of speech towards thee; what wouldst thou have a woman do? I could not offer thee my love, for then had I been little worthy of thee. I deemed thee ever the noblest man of men; and then to know thee another's husband--'twas that caused me the bitter pain, that myself I could not understand!
SIGURD (much moved). A baleful web has the Norn woven around us twain.
HIORDIS. The blame is thine own; bravely and firmly it becomes a man to act. When I set that hard proof for him who should win me, my thought was of thee;--yet could'st thou----!
SIGURD. I knew Gunnar's soul-sickness; I alone could heal it;--was there aught for me to choose? And yet, had I known what I now know, I scarce dare answer for myself; for great is the might of love.
HIORDIS (with animation). But now, Sigurd!--A baleful hap has held us apart all these years; now the knot is loosed; the days to come shall make good the past to us.
SIGURD (shaking his head). It cannot be; we must part again.
HIORDIS. Nay, we must not. I love thee, that may I now say unashamed; for my love is no mere dalliance, like a weak woman's; were I a man-- by all the Mighty Ones, I could still love thee, even as now I do! Up then, Sigurd! Happiness is worth a daring deed; we are both free if we but will it, and then the game is won.
SIGURD. Free? What meanest thou?
HIORDIS. What is Dagny to thee? What can she be to thee? No more than I count Gunnar in my secret heart. What matters it though two worthless lives be wrecked?
SIGURD. Hiordis, Hiordis!
HIORDIS. Let Gunnar stay where he is; let Dagny fare with her father to Iceland; I will follow thee in harness of steel, withersoever thou wendest. (SIGURD makes a movement.) Not as thy wife will I follow thee; for I have belonged to another, and the woman lives that has lain by thy side. No, Sigurd, not as they wife, but like those mighty women, like Hilde's sisters,[1] will I follow thee, and fire thee to strife and to manly deeds, so that thy name shall be heard over every land. In the sword-game will I stand by thy side; I will fare forth among thy warriors on the stormy viking-raids; and when the death- song is sung, it shall tell of Sigurd and Hiordis in one!
[1] The Valkyries.
SIGURD. Once was that my fairest dream; now, it is too late. Gunnar and Dagny stand between us, and that by right. I crushed my love for Gunnar's sake;--how great soever my suffering, I cannot undo my deed. And Dagny--full of faith and trust she left her home and kindred; never must she dream that I longed for Hiordis as often as she took me to her breast.
HIORDIS. And for such a cause wilt thou lay a burden on thy life! To what end hast thou strength and might, and therewith all noble gifts of the mind? And deemest thou it can now beseem me to dwell beneath Gunnar's roof? Nay, Sigurd, trust me, there are many tasks awaiting such a man as thou. Erik is king of Norway--do thou rise against him! Many goodly warriors will join thee and swear thee fealty; with unconquerable might will we press onward, and fight and toil unresting until thou art seated on the throne of Harfager!
SIGURD. Hiordis, Hiordis, so have I dreamt in my wild youth; let it be forgotten--tempt me not!
HIORDIS (impressively). It is the Norn's will that we two shall hold together; it cannot be altered. Plainly now I see my task in life: to make thee famous over all the world. Thou hast stood before me every day, every hour of my life; I sought to tear thee out of my mind, but I lacked the might; now it is needless, now that I know thou lovest me.
SIGURD (with forced coldness). If that be so--then know--I _have_ loved thee; it is past now;--I have forgot those days.
HIORDIS. Sigurd, in that thou liest! So much at least am I worth, that if thou hast loved me once, thou canst never forget it.
SIGURD (vehemently). I must; and now I will.
HIORDIS. So be it; but thou _canst_ not. Thou wilt seek to hinder me, but in vain; ere evening falls, Gunnar and Dagny shall know all.
SIGURD. Ha, that wilt thou never do!
HIORDIS. That will I do!
SIGURD. Then must I know thee ill; high-souled have I ever deemed thee.
HIORDIS. Evil days breed evil thoughts; too great has been thy trust in me. I will, I must, go forth by thy side--forth to face life and strife; Gunnar's roof-tree is too low for me.
SIGURD (with emphasis). But honour between man and man hast thou highly prized. There lack not grounds for strife between me and Gunnar; say, now, that he fell by my hand, wouldst thou still make all known and follow me?
HIORDIS (starting). Wherefore askest thou?
SIGURD. Answer me first: what wouldst thou do, were I to thy husband his bane.
HIORDIS (looks hard at him). Then must I keep silence and never rest until I had seen thee slain.
SIGURD (with a smile). It is well, Hiordis--I knew it.
HIORDIS (hastily). But it can never come to pass!
SIGURD. It must come to pass; thou thyself hast cast the die for Gunnar's life and mine.
(GUNNAR, with some House-carls, enters from the back.)
GUNNAR (gloomily, to HIORDIS). See now; the seed thou hast sown is shooting bravely!
SIGURD (approaching). What is amiss with thee?
GUNNAR. Sigurd, is it thou? What is amiss? Nought but what I might well have foreseen. As soon as Dagny, thy wife, had brought tidings of Kare the Peasant, I took horse and rode to my neighbours to crave help against him.
HIORDIS (eagerly). Well?
GUNNAR. I was answered awry where'er I came: my dealings with Kare had been little to my honour, it was said;--hm, other things were said to boot, that I will not utter.--I am spurned at by all; I am thought to have done a dastard deed; men hold it a shame to make common cause with me.
SIGURD. It shall not long be held a shame; ere evening comes, thou shalt have men enough to face Kare.
GUNNAR. Sigurd!
HIORDIS (in a low voice, triumphantly). Ha, I knew it well!
SIGURD (with forced resolution). But then is there an end to the peace between us; for hearken to my words, Gunnar--thou hast slain Thorolf, my wife's kinsman, and therefore do I challenge thee to single combat[1] to-morrow at break of day.
[1] _Holmgang_--see note, p. 138 [_Holmgang_=duel.]
(HIORDIS, in violent inward emotion, makes a stride towards SIGURD, but collects herself and remains standing motionless during the following.)
GUNNAR (in extreme astonishment). To single combat----! Me!--Thou art jesting, Sigurd!
SIGURD. Thou art lawfully challenged to single combat; 'twill be a game for life or death; one of us must fall!
GUNNAR (bitterly). Ha, I understand it well. When I came, thou didst talk with Hiordis alone; she has goaded thee afresh!
SIGURD. May hap. (Half towards HIORDIS.) A high-souled woman must ever guard her husband's honour. (To the men in the background.) And do ye, house-carls, now go to Gunnar's neighbours, and say to them that to-morrow he is to ply sword-strokes with me; none dare call that man a dastard who bears arms against Sigurd Viking!
(The House-carls go out by the back.)
GUNNAR (goes quickly up to SIGURD and presses his hands, in strong emotion). Sigurd, my brave brother, now I understand thee! Thou venturest thy life for my honour, as of old for my happiness!
SIGURD. Thank thy wife; she has the largest part in what I do. To- morrow at break of day----
GUNNAR. I will meet thee. (Tenderly.) Foster-brother, wilt thou have a good blade of me? It is a gift of price.
SIGURD. I thank thee; but let it hang.--Who knows if next evening I may have any use for it.
GUNNAR (shakes his hand). Farewell, Sigurd!
SIGURD. Again farewell, and fortune befriend thee this night!
(They part. GUNNAR goes out to the right. SIGURD casts a glance at HIORDIS, and goes out by the back.)
HIORDIS (after a pause, softly and thoughtfully). To-morrow they fight! Which will fall? (After a moment's silence, she bursts forth as if seized by a strong resolution.) Let fall who will--Sigurd and I shall still be together!
ACT FOURTH.
(By the coast. It is evening; the moon breaks forth now and again, from among dark and ragged storm-clouds. At the back, a black grave-mound, newly heaped up.) (ORNULF sits on a stone, in front on the right, his head bare, his elbows resting on his knees, and his face buried in his hands. His men are digging at the mound; some give light with pine-knot torches. After a short pause, SIGURD and DAGNY enter from the boat-house, where a wood fire is burning.)
DAGNY (in a low voice). There sits he still. (Holding SIGURD back.) Nay, speak not to him!
SIGURD. Thou say'st well; it is too soon; best leave him!
DAGNY (goes over to the right, and gazes at her father in quiet sorrow). So strong was he yesterday when he bore Thorolf's body on his back; strong was he as he helped to heap the grave-mound; but when they were all laid to rest, and earth and stones piled over them--then the sorrow seized him; then seemed it of a sudden as though his fire were quenched. (Dries her tears.) Tell me, Sigurd, when thinkest thou to fare homeward to Iceland?
SIGURD. So soon as the storm abates, and my quarrel with Gunnar is ended.
DAGNY. And then wilt thou buy land and build thee a homestead, and go a-viking no more?
SIGURD. Yes, yes,--that have I promised.
DAGNY. And I may believe without doubt that Hiordis spoke falsely when she said that I was unworthy to be thy wife?
SIGURD. Yes yes, Dagny, trust thou to my word.
DAGNY. Then am I glad again, and will try to forget all the evil that here has been wrought. In the long winter evenings we will talk together of Gunnar and Hiordis, and----
SIGURD. Nay, Dagny, wouldst thou have things go well with us, do thou never speak Hiordis' name when we sit together in Iceland.
DAGNY (mildly upbraiding him). Unjust is thy hatred towards her. Sigurd, Sigurd, it is unlike thee.
ONE OF THE MEN (approaching). There now, the mound is finished.
ORNULF (as if awaking). The mound? Is it--ay, ay----
SIGURD. Now speak to him, Dagny.
DAGNY (approaching). Father, it is cold out here; a storm is gathering to-night.
ORNULF. Hm; heed it not; the mound is close-heaped and crannyless; they lie warm in there.
DAGNY. Ay, but thou----
ORNULF. I? I am not cold.
DAGNY. Nought hast thou eaten today; wilt thou not go in? The supper-board stands ready.
ORNULF. Let the supper-board stand; I have no hunger.
DAGNY. But to sit here so still--trust me, thou wilt take hurt of it; thou art ever wont to be stirring.
ORNULF. True, true; there is somewhat that crushes my breast; I cannot draw breath.
(He hides his face in his hands. A pause. DAGNY seats herself beside him.)
DAGNY. To-morrow wilt thou make ready thy ship and set forth for Iceland?
ORNULF (without looking up). What should I do there? Nay, I will to my sons.
DAGNY (with pain). Father!
ORNULF (raises his head). Go in and let me sit here; when the storm has played with me for a night or two, the game will be over, I ween.
SIGURD. Thou canst not think to deal thus with thyself.
ORNULF. Dost marvel that I fain would rest? My day's work is done; I have laid my sons in their grave. (Vehemently.) Go from me!--Go, go!
(He hides his face.)
SIGURD (softly, to DAGNY, who rises). Let him sit yet a while.
DAGNY. Nay, I have one rede yet untried;--I know him. (To Ornulf.) Thy day's work done, say'st thou? Nay, that it is not. Thou hast laid thy sons in the grave;--but art thou not a skald? It is meet that thou should'st sing their memory.
ORNULF (shaking his head). Sing? Nay, nay; yesterday I could sing; I am too old to-day.
DAGNY. But needs must thou; honourable men were thy sons, one and all; a song must be made of them, and that can none of our kin but thou.
ORNULF (looks inquiringly at SIGURD). To sing? What thinkest _thou_, Sigurd?
SIGURD. Meseems it is but meet; thou must e'en do as she says.
DAGNY. Thy neighbours in Iceland will deem it ill done when the grave-ale is drunk over Ornulf's children, and there is no song to sing with it. Thou hast ever time enough to follow thy sons.
ORNULF. Well well, I will try it; and thou, Dagny, give heed, that afterwards thou may'st carve the song on staves.
(The men approach with the torches, forming a group around him; he is silent for a time, reflecting; then he says:)
Bragi's[1] gift is bitter when the heart is broken; sorrow-laden singer, singing, suffers sorely.
Natheless, since the Skald-god gave me skill in song-craft, in a lay loud-ringing be my loss lamented!
(Rises.)
Ruthless Norn[2] and wrathful wrecked my life and ravaged, wiled away my welfare, wasted Ornulf's treasure.
Sons had Ornulf seven, by the great gods granted;-- lonely now and life-sick goes the greybeard, sonless.
Seven sons so stately, bred among the sword-blades, made a mighty bulwark round the snow-locked sea-king.
Levelled lies the bulwark, dead my swordsmen seven; gone the greybeard's gladness, desolate his dwelling.
Thorolf,--thou my last-born! Of the bold the boldest! Soon were spent my sorrow so but thou wert left me!
Fair thou wast as springtide, fond towards thy father, waxing straight and stalwart to so wight a warrior.
Dark and drear his death-wound leaves my life's lone evening; grief hath gripped my bosom as 'twixt hurtling targes.
Nought the Norn denied me of her rueful riches, showering woes unstinted over Ornulf's world-way.
Weak are now my weapons. But, were god-might given me, then, oh Norn, I swear it, scarce should'st thou go scatheless!
Dire were then my vengeance; then had dawned thy doomsday, Norn, that now hast left me nought but yonder grave-mound.
Nought, I said? Nay, truly, somewhat still is Ornulf's, since of Suttung's[3] mead-horn he betimes drank deeply.
(With rising enthusiasm.)
Though she stripped me sonless, one great gift she gave me-- songcraft's mighty secret, skill to sing my sorrows.
On my lips she laid it, goodly gift of songcraft; loud, then, let my lay sound, e'en where they are lying!
Hail, my stout sons seven! Hail, as homeward ride ye! Songcraft's glorious god-gift stauncheth woe and wailing.
[1] Bragi, the god of poetry and eloquence. [2] See note, p. 175 [The "Nornir" were the Fates of northern mythology.] [3] Suttung was a giant who kept guard over the magic mead of poetical inspiration.
(He draws a deep breath, throws back the hair from his brow, and says calmly:)
So--so; now is Ornulf sound and strong again. (To the men.) Follow me to the supper-board, lads; we have had a heavy day's work!
(Goes with the men into the boat-house.)
DAGNY. Praised be the Mighty Ones on high that gave me so good a rede. (To SIGURD.) Wilt thou not go in?
SIGURD. Nay, I list not to. Tell me, are all things ready for to-morrow?
DAGNY. They are; a silk-sewn shroud lies on the bench; but I know full surely that thou wilt hold thee against Gunnar, so I have not wept over it.
SIGURD. Grant all good powers, that thou may'st never weep for my sake. (He stops and looks out.)
DAGNY. What art thou listening to?
SIGURD. Hear'st thou nought--_there?_
(Points towards the left.)
DAGNY. Ay, there goes a fearsome storm over the sea!
SIGURD (going up a little towards the background). Hm, there will fall hard hailstones in that storm. (Shouts.) Who comes?
KARE THE PEASANT (without on the left). Folk thou wot'st of, Sigurd Viking!
(KARE THE PEASANT, with a band of armed men, enters from the left.)
SIGURD. Whither would ye?
KARE. To Gunnar's hall.
SIGURD. As foemen?
KARE. Ay, trust me for that! Thou didst hinder me before; but now I ween thou wilt scarce do the like.
SIGURD. Maybe not.
KARE. I have heard of thy challenge to Gunnar; but if things go to my mind, weak will be his weapons when the time comes for your meeting.
SIGURD. 'Tis venturesome work thou goest about; take heed for thyself, Peasant!
KARE (with defiant laughter). Leave that to me; if thou wilt tackle thy ship to-night, we will give thee light for the task!--Come, all my men; here goes the way.
(They go off to the right, at the back.)
DAGNY. Sigurd, Sigurd, this misdeed must thou hinder.