Bibliotheca Polyglotta

ELINE.
Eder spørger jeg; thi det er eder, som skal svare for, at hun måtte lade sit unge liv. Glad var hun som en fugl om våren, da hun sejled fra Østråt for at gæste Merete i Bergen. Et år efter stod hun atter her i stuen; men da var hendes kinder hvide, og døden havde ædt sig ind i hendes bryst. Ja, I undres, min moder! I mente nok, at denne stygge hemmelighed var begraven med hende; – men hun har sagt mig alt. En høvisk ridder havde vundet hendes hjerte. Han vilde ægte hende. I vidste, at det gældte hendes ære. Men I blev ubøjelig, – og eders barn måtte dø. I ser, jeg véd det alt!

ELINA.
It is you I ask; it is you that must answer for her young life. She was glad as a bird in spring when she sailed from Östråt to be Merete’s guest. A year passed, and she stood in this room once more; but her cheeks were white, and death had gnawed deep into her breast. Ah, you wonder at me, my mother! You thought that the ugly secret was buried with her;--but she told me all. A courtly knight had won her heart. He would have wedded her. You knew that her honour was at stake; yet your will never bent--and your child had to die. You see, I know all!

FRU INGER.
Alt? Så har hun vel også sagt dig hans navn?

LADY INGER.
All? Then she told you his name?

ELINE.
Hans navn? Nej; hans navn har hun ikke sagt mig. Hun havde ligesom en stingende rædsel for hans navn; – hun nævnte det aldrig.

ELINA.
His name? No; his name she did not tell me. His name was a torturing horror to her;--she never uttered it.

FRU INGER
(lettet, hen for sig).
Ah, så véd du dog ikke alt. – – Eline; – den sag, du nu har rørt ved, var mig fuldt ud vitterlig. Men der er noget ved sagen, hvad du kanske ikke har givet agt på: Hin herremand, som Lucia traf i Bergen, var en Dansk –

LADY INGER
(relieved, to herself).
Ah, then you do not know all---- ---- Elina--it is true that the whole of this matter was well known to me. But there is one thing about it you seem not to have noted. The lord whom Lucia met in Bergen was a Dane----

ELINE.
Også det véd jeg.

ELINA.
That too I know.

FRU INGER.
Og hans kærlighed var en løgn. Ved list og glatte ord havde han besnæret hende.

LADY INGER.
And his love was a lie. With guile and soft speeches he had ensnared her.

ELINE.
Jeg véd det; men hun havde ham kær alligevel; og havde I havt en moders hjerte, så var eders barns ære gået for alt.

ELINA.
I know it; but nevertheless she loved him; and had you had a mother’s heart, your daughter’s honour had been more to you than all.

FRU INGER.
Ikke for hendes lykke. Tror du, at jeg, med Meretes lod for øjnene, vilde ofre mit andet barn til en mand, som ikke var hende god?

LADY INGER.
Not more than her happiness. Do you think that, with Merete’s lot before my eyes, I could sacrifice my second child to a man that loved her not?

ELINE.
Kløgtige ord dårer så mangt et sind; men mig dårer de ikke. – Tro ikke, at jeg er så ganske fremmed for hvad der går for sig rundt om i landet. Tilfulde skønner jeg eders færd. Jeg véd godt, at de danske herremænd ikke har nogen fuldtro ven i jer. I hader dem måske; men I frygter dem tillige. Den gang I gav Merete til Vinzents Lunge, havde de danske herrer overmagten på alle kanter i landet. Tre år efter, da I forbød Lucia at ægte ham, til hvem hun havde knyttet sit liv, skønt han havde forlokket hende, – da stod sagerne helt anderledes. Kongens danske fogder havde øvet skændige ugerninger imod almuen, og I fandt det ikke rådeligt at knytte jer fastere, end sket var, til de fremmede voldsmænd. Og hvad har I vel gjort for at hævne hende, der måtte dø så ung? I har intet gjort. Nu vel; jeg skal handle for jer; jeg skal hævne al den forsmædelse, der er overgået vort folk og vor æt!

ELINA.
Cunning words may befool many, but they befool not me---- Think not I know nothing of all that is passing in our land. I understand your counsels but too well. I know well that our Danish lords have no true friend in you. It may be that you hate them; but your fear them too. When you gave Merete to Vinzents Lunge the Danes held the mastery on all sides throughout our land. Three years later, when you forbade Lucia to wed the man she had given her life to, though he had deceived her,--things were far different then. The King’s Danish governors had shamefully misused the common people, and you thought it not wise to link yourself still more closely to the foreign tyrants. And what have you done to avenge her that had to die so young? You have done nothing. Well then, I will act in your stead; I will avenge all the shame they have brought upon our people and our house.

FRU INGER.
Du? Hvad har du isinde?

LADY INGER.
You? What will you do?

ELINE.
Jeg går min vej, ligesom I går eders. Hvad jeg har isinde, véd jeg ikke selv; men jeg føler kræfter i mig til at vove alt for vor retfærdige sag.

ELINA.
I shall go my way, even as you go yours. What I shall do I myself know not; but I feel within me the strength to dare all for our righteous cause.

FRU INGER.
Da vil du få en hård dyst at bestå. Jeg har engang lovet det samme som du, – og mit hår er grånet under byrden af mit løfte.

LADY INGER.
Then you have a hard fight before you. I once promised as you do now--and my hair has grown grey under the burden of that promise.

ELINE.
God nat! Eders gæst kan ventes; og ved det møde er jeg tilovers. Måske det endnu er tid for eder – –; nu, Gud styrke og lede eders færd! Glem ikke at mange tusenders øjne vogter på eder. Tænk på Merete, som græder sent og tidligt over sit forspildte liv. Tænk på Lucia, som sover i den sorte kiste. Og endnu ét. Glem ikke, at i denne nat spiller I brikkespil om eders sidste barn.
(hun går ud til venstre.)

ELINA.
Good-night! Your guest will soon be here, and at that meeting I should be out of place. It may be there is yet time for you---- ----; well, God strengthen you and guide your way! Forget not that the eyes of many thousands are fixed upon you. Think on Merete, weeping late and early over her wasted life. Think on Lucia, sleeping in her black coffin. And one thing more. Forget not that in the game you play this night, your stake is your last child.
(Goes out to the left.)

FRU INGER
(ser en stund efter hende).
Mit sidste barn? Der talte du sandere, end du selv vidste. – – Men det gælder ikke mit barn alene. Hjælp mig Gud; i denne nat spilles brikkespil om hele Norges rige. Ah, – rider der ikke nogen gennem borgeledet? (hun lytter ved vinduet.) Nej; endnu ikke. Det var kun vinden. Gravkoldt blæser det. – – Har Gud Herren ret til dette? – Danne mig til kvinde, – og så læsse en mandsdåd på mine skuldre. For jeg har landets velfærd i mine hænder. Det står i min magt at rejse dem alle som én mand. Det er fra mig de venter tegnet; og giver jeg det ikke nu, så sker det – kanske aldrig. Nøle? Ofre de mange for den enes skyld? – Var det ikke bedre, ifald jeg kunde – –? Nej, nej, nej, – jeg vil det ikke! Jeg kan det ikke! (hun kaster et stjålent blik imod riddersalen, vender sig bort som i angst og siger hviskende:) Nu er de derinde igen. Blege spøgelser; – døde fædre; faldne frænder. – Fy; disse borende øjne fra alle krogene! (hun slår bagover med hånden og skriger:) Sten Sture! Knut Alfsøn! Olaf Skaktavl! Vig, – vig! Jeg kan ikke dette!
(En fremmed, stærkbygget mand med gråsprængt hår og skæg, klædt i en forreven lammeskindskjortel og med rustne våben, er trådt ind fra riddersalen.)

LADY INGER
(looks after her awhile).
My last child? You know not how true was that word---- ---- But the stake is not my child only. God help me, I am playing to-night for the whole of Norway’s land. Ah--is not that some one riding through the gateway? (Listens at the window.) No; not yet. Only the wind; it blows cold as the grave---- ---- Has God a right to do this?--To make me a woman--and then to lay a man’s duty upon my shoulders? For I have the welfare of the country in my hands. It is in my power to make them rise as one man. They look to me for the signal; and if I give it not now---- it may never be given. To delay? To sacrifice the many for the sake of one?--Were it not better if I could---- ----? No, no, no--I will not! I cannot! (Steals a glance towards the Banquet Hall, but turns away again as if in dread, and whispers:) I can see them in there now. Pale spectres--dead ancestors-- fallen kinsfolk.--Ah, those eyes that pierce me from every corner! (Makes a backward gesture with her hand, and cries:) Sten Sture! Knut Alfson! Olaf Skaktavl! Back--back!--I cannot do this!
(A STRANGER, strongly built, and with grizzled hair and beard, has entered from the Banquet Hall. He is dressed in a torn lambskin tunic; his weapons are rusty.)

DEN FREMMEDE MAND
(standser ved døren og siger dæmpet):
Hil eder, fru Inger Gyldenløve!

THE STRANGER
(stops in the doorway, and says in a low voice). Hail to you, Inger Gyldenlöve!

FRU INGER
(vender sig med et skrig).
Ah, fri mig Krist i himlen!
(hun falder om i stolen. Den fremmede mand stirrer på hende, ubevægelig, lænet til sit sværd.)

LADY INGER
(turns with a scream).
Ah, Christ in heaven save me!
(Falls back into a chair. The STRANGER stands gazing at her, motionless, leaning on his sword.)

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