Hertha, Aslaug.

ASLAUG

Hertha, we dance before the man tonight.,
Why not tonight?

HERTHA

Because I do not choose¹
Merely to wound and then be stayed.²

ASLAUG

To near,
To strike, while all posterity applauds.
For Norway's poets to the end of time
Shall sing in praises noble as the theme
Of Aslaug's dance and Aslaug's dagger.

HERTHA

Yes,
If we succeed; but who will sing the praise
Of foiled assassins ? Shall we³ risk defeat ?
Shall⁴ Swegn of Norway roam until the end
The desperate snows and forest⁵ silences,
Outlawed, proscribed, pursued⁶?

ASLAUG

Never⁷ defeat!

HERTHA

The man we come to slay —

ASLAUG

A mighty man!

¹Because I will not strike,      ²Wound perhaps only and be stayed.      ³ Will you/If we      ⁴ Must      ⁵mountain      ⁶and poor?      ⁷ Not again

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He has the face and figure of a god, —
A marble emperor with brilliant eyes.
How came the usurper by a face like that?

HERTHA

His father was an earl of Odin's stock.

ASLAUG

His fable since he rose! A pauper house
Of one poor vessel and a narrow fiord
And some pine-trees possessor, — that was he,
The root he sprang from.

HERTHA

But from that to tower
In three short¹ summers undisputed² lord
Of Norway, before years had put their growth
Upon his chin! If not of Odin's race,
Odin is for him. Are you not afraid,
You who see Fate even in a sparrow's flight,
When Odin is for him?

ASLAUG

Aslaug is against.
He has a strength, an iron strength, and Thor
Strikes hammerlike in his uplifted sword.
His voice is like a chant of victory.
But Fate alone decides, when all is said,
Not Thor, not Odin. I will try my Fate.

HERTHA

He is a mere usurper, is he not?
Norway's election made him King, they say.

ASLAUG

Left Olaf Thorleikson no heirs behind?

¹brief/swift      ²the magnificent

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Was the throne empty?

HERTHA

Of Trondhjem, that's their cry.

The inland¹ and the north were free to choose.

ASLAUG

As rebels are.

HERTHA

There was a discord there.
The South exulting in her golden gains
Cried, "I am Norway," but the northern earls
Refused consent or, free auxiliaries,
Admitted only leadership in war.
We chose the arbitration of the sword,
That last appeal of all, — the sword has judged
Against our claim.

ASLAUG

The dagger shall o'erride.²

HERTHA

Still you come back to that. Yet think this out.³

Rather than by our blood to call⁴ for his

Is not a gentle peace still possible ?⁵

Swegn might have⁶ Trondhjem, Eric all⁷ the north

The suzerainty ? It is his. We fought for it.⁸

We have lost it.⁹ Think of this before we strike.

ASLAUG

Better our barren empire of the snows!
Nobler¹⁰ with reindeer herding to survive,

¹centre      ²The dagger overrides.      ³ (i) Now think it out.    (ii) But think a little.      ⁴pay       ⁵ Is not a composition possible?      ⁶rule      ⁷ in          ⁸ (i) The suzerainty his: we fought for it.      (ii) The suzerainty ? Is it not his? We fought,      ⁹And lost it.      ¹⁰Better

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Or else a free and miserable death
Together.

HERTHA

Better is a tried resolve.¹
Therefore I cast the doubt before your mind.
Be sure in striking.²  Aslaug, did you see
The eyes of Eric on you  ?

ASLAUG (indifferently)

I am fair.
Men look upon me.

HERTHA

It gives us the great chance.
At ease, alone with us, absorbed, suddenly
You strike, I leap in seconding the blow.³
Can he escape then? Swegn shall have his throne.⁴

ASLAUG

Arrange it as you will. You have a swift
Contriving careful brain I cannot match.
To dare, to act was always Aslaug's part.

HERTHA

You will not shrink?

ASLAUG

I am not of the earth,
To bound my actions by the common rule.
I claim my kin with those whom Heaven's gaze
Moulded supreme, — Swegn's sister, Olaf's child,
Aslaug of Norway.

¹It is good to be resolved.      ² One strikes more (out) surely.

³ Suddenly you strike, I come in, widen the blow.

⁴ Shall not Swegn have the throne?

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HERTHA

Then it must be done.

ASLAUG

Hertha, I will not know the plots you weave;

But when I see your signal, I will strike.

She goes out.

HERTHA (alone)

Pride violent! loftiness intolerable!

The grandiose kingdom-breaking blow is hers,

The baseness, the deception are for me.

This, the assumption, the magnificence,

Made Swegn her tool. To me, his lover, counsellor,

Wife, worshipper, his ears were coldly deaf.

But, lioness of Norway, thy loud bruit

And leap gigantic are ensnared at last

In my compelling toils. She must be trapped!

She is the fuel for my husband's soul

To burn itself on a disastrous pyre.

Remove its cause, the flame will sink to rest;

Then we in Trondhjem shall live peacefully
Till Eric dies, as some day die he must
In battle or by a revolting sword,
And leaves the spacious world unoccupied;

Then other men may feel the sun once more.

Always she talks of Fate; does she not see

This man was born beneath exultant stars,

Had gods to rock his cradle ? He must possess

His date, his strong resistless time, — then comes, —,

All things too great end soon, — death, overthrow,

And our late summer when cold spring is past.

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