The Atlantic Book of Modern Plays by Gordon Bottomley et al. (free ebooks romance novels .txt) 📖

your own heart!

    (She leaves the settle, and stooping takes up a mass
      of primroses and kisses them.)

  We have great power to-night, dear golden folk,
  For he took down and hid the crucifix.
  And my invisible brethren fill the house;
  I hear their footsteps going up and down.
  Oh, they shall soon rule all the hearts of men
  And own all lands; last night they merrily danced
  About his chapel belfry! (To MAIRE) Come away,
  I hear my brethren bidding us away!

                        FATHER HART
  I will go fetch the crucifix again.

    (They hang about him in terror and prevent him from
      moving.)

                        BRIDGET BRUIN
  The enchanted flowers will kill us if you go.

                        MAURTEEN BRUIN
  They turn the flowers to little twisted flames.

                        SHAWN BRUIN
  The little twisted flames burn up the heart.

                        THE CHILD
  I hear them crying, "Newly married bride,
  Come to the woods and waters and pale lights."

                        MARIE BRUIN
  I will go with you.

                        FATHER HART
                    She is lost, alas!

                        THE CHILD (standing by the door)
  But clinging mortal hope must fall from you:
  For we who ride the winds, run on the waves
  And dance upon the mountains, are more light
  Than dewdrops on the banners of the dawn.

                        MARIE BRUIN
  Oh, take me with you.

(SHAWN BRUIN goes over to her.)

                        SHAWN BRUIN
                            Beloved, do not leave me!
  Remember when I met you by the well
  And took your hand in mine and spoke of love.

                        MARIE BRUIN
  Dear face! Dear voice!

                        THE CHILD
                            Come, newly married bride!

                        MARIE BRUIN
  I always loved her world—and yet—and yet—

(Sinks into his arms.)

                        THE CHILD (from the door)
  White bird, white bird, come with me, little bird.

                        MARIE BRUIN
  She calls to me!

                        THE CHILD
                           Come with me, little bird!

                        MARIE BRUIN
  I can hear songs and dancing!

                        SHAWN BRUIN
                                        Stay with me!

                        MARIE BRUIN
  I think that I would stay—and yet—and yet—

                        THE CHILD
  Come, little bird with crest of gold!

                        MARIE BRUIN (very softly)
                                      And yet—

                        THE CHILD
  Come, little bird with silver feet!

(MAIRE dies, and the child goes.)

                        SHAWN BRUIN
                                      She is dead!

                        BRIDGET BRUIN
  Come from that image: body and soul are gone.
  You have thrown your arms about a drift of leaves
  Or bole of an ash tree changed into her image.

                        FATHER HART
  Thus do the spirits of evil snatch their prey
  Almost out of the very hand of God;
  And day by day their power is more and more,
  And men and women leave old paths, for pride
  Comes knocking with thin knuckles on the heart.

                        A VOICE (singing outside)
      The wind blows out of the gates of the day,
      The wind blows over the lonely of heart,
      And the lonely of heart is withered away
      While the faëries dance in a place apart,
      Shaking their milk-white feet in a ring,
      Tossing their milk-white arms in the air;
      For they hear the wind laugh and murmur and sing
      Of a land where even the old are fair,
      And even the wise are merry of tongue;
      But I heard a reed of Coolaney say,
      "When the wind has laughed and murmured and sung,
      The lonely of heart is withered away."

(The song is taken up by many voices, who sing loudly, as if in triumph. Some of the voices seem to come from within the house.)

[CURTAIN] THE RIDING TO LITHEND[1]

Gordon Bottomley

[Footnote 1: This play is reprinted by permission of and by arrangement with Constable and Company, Limited, London.]

CHARACTERS

GUNNAR HAMUNDSSON
HALLGERD LONGCOAT, his wife
RANNVEIG, his mother
ODDNY, ASTRID, and STEINVOR, Hallgerd's housewomen
ORMILD, a woman thrall
BIARTEY, JOFRID, and GUDFINN, beggar-women
GIZUR THE WHITE, MORD VALGARDSSON, THORGRIM THE
    EASTERLING, THORBRAND THORLEIKSSON and ASBRAND
    his brother, AUNUND, THORGEIB, and HROALD,
    riders
MANY OTHER RIDERS AND VOICES OF RIDERS

TIME: Iceland, A.D. 990

SCENE: The hall of GUNNAR'S house at Lithend in South Iceland. The portion shewn is set on the stage diagonally, so that to the right one end is seen, while from the rear corner of this, one side runs down almost to the left front.

The side wall is low and wainscoted with carved panelling on which hang weapons, shields, and coats of mail. In one place a panel slid aside shews a shut bed.

In front of the panelling are two long benches with a carved high-seat between them. Across the end of the hall are similar panellings and the seats, with corresponding tables, of the women's dais; behind these and in the gable wall is a high narrow door with a rounded top.

A timber roof slopes down to the side wall and is upheld by cross-beams and two rows of tall pillars which make a rather narrow nave of the centre of the hall. One of these rows runs parallel to the side wall, the pair of pillars before the high-seat being carved and ended with images; of the other row only two pillars are visible at the extreme right.

Within this nave is the space for the hearths; but the only hearth visible is the one near the women's dais. In the roof above it there is a louvre: the fire glows and no smoke rises. The hall is lit everywhere by the firelight.

The rafters over the women's dais carry a floor at the level of the side walls, forming an open loft which is reached by a wide ladder fixed against the wall: a bed is seen in this loft. Low in the roof at intervals are shuttered casements, one being above the loft: all the shutters are closed. Near the fire a large shaggy hound is sleeping; and ORMILD, in the undyed woollen dress of a thrall, is combing wool.

ODDNY stands spinning at the side; near her ASTRID and STEINVOR sit stitching a robe which hangs between them.

                        ASTRID
  Night is a winter long: and evening falls.
  Night, night and winter and the heavy snow
  Burden our eyes, intrude upon our dreams,
  And make of loneliness an earthly place.

                        ORMILD
  This bragging land of freedom that enthralls me
  Is still the fastness of a secret king
  Who treads the dark like snow, of old king Sleep.
  He works with night, he has stolen death's tool frost
  That makes the breaking wave forget to fall.

                        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 housemen 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.
  'T is 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
  Girl, girl, my son has many 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 anyone 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 dais)
  Dead men have told me I was better than