Complete Works of Henrik Ibsen (72 page)

BISHOP NICHOLAS.
True, Earl, true.

EARL SKULE.
When they made Guthorm Sigurdsson king, I was in the full strength of my youth; it was as though a voice cried aloud within me: Away with the child, — I am the man, the strong man! — But Guthorm was the king’s son; there yawned an abyss between me and the throne.

BISHOP NICHOLAS.
And you dared not venture —

EARL SKULE.
Then Erling Steinvæg was chosen by the Slittungs. The voice cried within me again: Skule is a greater chieftain than Erling Steinvæg! But I must needs have broken with the Birchlegs, — that was the abyss that time.

BISHOP NICHOLAS.
And Erling became king of the Slittungs, and after of the Ribbungs, and still you waited!

EARL SKULE.
I waited for Guthorm to die.

BISHOP NICHOLAS.
And Guthorm died, and Inge Bårdsson, your brother, became king.

EARL SKULE.
Then I waited for my brother’s death. He was sickly from the first; every morning, when we met at holy mass, I would cast stolen glances to see whether his sickness increased. Every twitch of pain that crossed his face was as a puff of wind in my sails, and bore me nearer to the throne. Every sigh he breathed in his agony sounded to me like an echoing trumpetblast, like a herald from afar, proclaiming that the throne should soon be mine. Thus I tore up by the roots every thought of brotherly kindness; and Inge died, and Håkon came — and the Birchlegs made him king.

BISHOP NICHOLAS.
And you waited.

EARL SKULE.
Methought help must come from above. I felt the kingly strength within me, and I was growing old; every day that passed was a day taken from my life-work. Each evening I thought; To-morrow will come the miracle that shall strike him down and set me in the empty seat.

BISHOP NICHOLAS.
Small was then Håkon’s power; he was no more than a child; it wanted but a single step from you — yet you took it not.

EARL SKULE.
That step was hard to take; it would have parted me from my kindred and from all my friends.

BISHOP NICHOLAS.
Ay, there is the rub, Earl Skule, — that is the curse which has lain upon your life. You would fain know every way open at need, — you dare not break all your bridges and keep only one, defend it alone, and on it conquer or fall. You lay snares for your foe, you set traps for his feet, and hang sharp swords over his head; you strew poison in every dish, and you spread a hundred nets for him; but when he walks into your toils you dare not draw the string; if he stretch out his hand for the poison, you think it safer he should fall by the sword; if he is like to be caught in the morning, you hold it wiser to wait till eventide.

EARL SKULE.
[Looking earnestly at him.]
And what would you do, my lord Bishop?

BISHOP NICHOLAS.
Speak not of me; my work is to build up thrones in this land, not to sit on them and rule.

EARL SKULE.
[After a short pause.]
Answer me one thing, my honoured lord, and answer me truly. How comes it that Håkon can follow the straight path so unflinchingly? He is no wiser, no bolder than I.

BISHOP NICHOLAS.
Who does the greatest work in this world?

EARL SKULE.
The greatest man.

BISHOP NICHOLAS.
But who is the greatest man?

EARL SKULE.
The bravest.

BISHOP NICHOLAS.
SO says the warrior. A priest would say: the man of greatest faith, — a philosopher: the most learned. But it is none of these, Earl Skule. The most fortunate man is the greatest man. It is the most fortunate man that does the greatest deeds — he whom the cravings of his time seize like a passion, begetting thoughts he himself cannot fathom, and pointing to paths which lead he knows not whither, but which he follows and must follow till he hears the people shout for joy, and, looking around him with wondering eyes, finds that he has done a mighty deed.

EARL SKULE.
Ay, there is that unswerving confidence in Håkon.

BISHOP NICHOLAS.
It is that which the Romans called
ingenium.
— Truly I am not strong in Latin; but ‘twas called
ingenium.

EARL SKULE.
[Thoughtfully at first, afterwards in increasing excitement.]
Is Håkon made of other clay than mine? The fortunate man? — Ay, does not everything thrive with him? Does not everything shape itself for the best, when he is concerned? Even the peasants note it; they say the trees bear fruit twice, and the fowls hatch out two broods every summer, whilst Håkon is king. Vermeland, where he burned and harried, stands smiling with its houses built afresh, and its corn-lands bending heavy-eared before the breeze. ‘Tis as though blood and ashes fertilised the land where Håkon’s armies pass; ‘tis as though the Lord clothed with double verdure what Håkon has trampled down; ‘tis as though the holy powers made haste to blot out all evil in his traek. And how easy has been his path to the throne! He needed that Inge should die early, and Inge died: his youth needed to be watched and warded, and his men kept watch and ward around him; he needed the ordeal, and his mother arose and bore the iron for him.

BISHOP NICHOLAS.
[With an involuntary outburst.]
But we — we two — !

EARL SKULE.
We?

BISHOP NICHOLAS.
You, I would say — what of you?

EARL SKULE.
The right is Håkon’s, Bishop.

BISHOP NICHOLAS.
The right is his, for he is the fortunate one; ‘tis even the summit of fortune, to have the right. But by what right has Håkon the right, and not you?

EARL SKULE.
[After a short pause.]
There are things I pray God to save me from thinking upon.

BISHOP NICHOLAS.
Saw you never an old picture in Christ’s Church at Nidaros? It shows the Deluge rising and rising over all the hills, so that there is but one single peak left above the waters. Up it clambers a whole household, father and mother and son and son’s wife and children; — and the son is hurling the father back into the flood to gain better footing; and he will cast his mother down and his wife and all his children, to win to the top himself; — for up there he sees a handsbreadth of ground, where he may keep life in him for an hour. — That, Earl, that is the saga of wisdom, and the saga of every wise man.

EARL SKULE.
But the right!

BISHOP NICHOLAS.
The son had the right. He had strength, and the craving for life; — fulfil your cravings and use your strength: so much right has every man.

EARL SKULE.
Ay, for that which is good.

BISHOP NICHOLAS.
Words, empty words! There is neither good nor evil, up nor down, high nor low. You must forget such words, else will you never take the last stride, never leap the abyss.
[In a subdued voice and insistently.]
You must not hate a party or a cause for that the party or the cause would have this and not that; but you must hate every man of a party for that he is against you, and you must hate all who gather round a cause, for that the cause clashes with your will. Whatever is helpful to you, is good — whatever lays stumbling-blocks in your path is evil.

EARL SKULE.
[Gazing thoughtfully before him.]
What has that throne not cost me, which yet I have not reached! And what has it cost Håkon, who now sits in it so securely! I was young, and I forswore my sweet secret love to ally myself with a powerful house. I prayed to the saints that I might be blessed with a son — I got only daughters.

BISHOP NICHOLAS.
Håkon will have sons, Earl — mark that!

EARL SKULE.
[Crossing to the window on the right.]
Ay — all things fall out to Håkon’s wish.

BISHOP NICHOLAS.
And you — will you suffer yourself to be outlawed from happiness all your life through? Are you blind? See you not that it is a stronger might than the Birchlegs that stands at Håkon’s back, and furthers all his life-work? He has help from above, from — from those that are against you — from those that have been your enemies, even from your birth! And will you bow before these your enemies? Rouse you, man; straighten your back! To what end got you your masterful soul? Bethink you that the first great deed in all the world was done by one who rose against a mighty realm!

EARL SKULE.
Who?

BISHOP NICHOLAS.
The angel who rose against the light!

EARL SKULE.
And was hurled into the bottomless pit —

BISHOP NICHOLAS.
[Wildly.]
And founded there a kingdom, and made himself a king, a mighty king — mightier than any of the ten thousand — earls up yonder!
[Sinks down upon a bench beside the table.

EARL SKULE.
[Looks long at him.]
Bishop Nicholas, are you something more or something less than a man?

BISHOP NICHOLAS.
[Smiling.]
I am in the state of innocence: I know not good from evil.

EARL SKULE.
[Half to himself]
Why did they send me into the world, if they meant not to order it better for me? Håkon has so firm and unswerving a faith in himself — all his men have so firm and unswerving a faith in him —

BISHOP NICHOLAS.
Let it not be seen that you have no such faith in yourself! Speak as though you had it, swear great oaths that you have it — and all will believe you.

EARL SKULE.
Had I a son! Had I but a son, to take all the great heritage after me!

BISHOP NICHOLAS.
[Eagerly.]
Earl — if you had a son?

EARL SKULE.
I have none.

BISHOP NICHOLAS.
Håkon will have sons.

EARL SKULE.
[Wringing his hands.]
And is king-born!

BISHOP NICHOLAS.
Earl — if he were not so?

EARL SKULE.
Has he not proved it? The ordeal —

BISHOP NICHOLAS.
And if he were not — in spite of the ordeal?

EARL SKULE.
Do you say that God lied in the issue of the ordeal?

BISHOP NICHOLAS.
What was it Inga of Varteig called upon God to witness?

EARL SKULE.
That the child she bore in the eastland, in Borgasyssel, was the son of Håkon Sverresson.

BISHOP NICHOLAS.
[Nods, looks round, and says softly.]
And if King Håkon were not that child?

EARL SKULE.
[Starts a step backwards.]
Great God — !
[Controls himself.]
It is beyond belief.

BISHOP NICHOLAS.
Hearken to me, Earl Skule. I have lived seventy years and six; it begins to go sharply downhill with me now, and I dare not take this secret with me over yonder —

EARL SKULE.
Speak, speak! Is he not the son of Håkon Sverresson?

BISHOP NICHOLAS.
Hear me. It was known to none that Inga was with child. Håkon Sverresson was lately dead, and doubtless she feared Inge Bårdsson, who was then king, and you, and — well, and the Baglers too mayhap. She was brought to bed secretly in the house of Trond the Priest, in Heggen parish, and after nine days she departed homewards; but the child remained a whole year with the priest, she not daring to look to it, and none knowing that it breathed save Trond and his two sons.

EARL SKULE.
Ay, ay — and then?

BISHOP NICHOLAS.
When the child was a year old, it could scarce be kept hidden longer. So Inga made the matter known to Erlend of Huseby — an old Birchleg of Sverre’s days, as you know.

EARL SKULE.
Well?

BISHOP NICHOLAS.
He and other chiefs from the Uplands took the child, bore it over the mountains in midwinter, and brought it to the King, who was then at Nidaros.

EARL SKULE.
And yet you can say that — ?

BISHOP NICHOLAS.
Needless to say, ‘twas a dangerous task for a humble priest to rear a king’s child. So soon as the child was born, he laid the matter before one of his superiors in the church, and prayed for his counsel. This his superior bade Trond send the true king’s son with secrecy to a place of safety, and give Inga another, if she or the Birchlegs should afterwards ask for her child.

EARL SKULE.
[Indignantly.]
And who was the hound that gave that counsel?

BISHOP NICHOLAS.
It was I.

EARL SKULE.
You? Ay, you have ever hated the race of Sverre.

BISHOP NICHOLAS.
I deemed it not safe for the King’s son to fall into your hands.