Queen Mary; and, Harold Part 41

For if the North take fire, I should be back; I shall be, soon enough.

EDITH. Ay, but last night An evil dream that ever came and went--

HAROLD. A gnat that vext thy pillow! Had I been by, I would have spoil'd his horn. My girl, what was it?

EDITH. Oh! that thou wert not going!

For so methought it was our marriage-morn, And while we stood together, a dead man Rose from behind the altar, tore away My marriage ring, and rent my bridal veil; And then I turn'd, and saw the church all fill'd With dead men upright from their graves, and all The dead men made at thee to murder thee, But thou didst back thyself against a pillar, And strike among them with thy battle-axe-- There, what a dream!

HAROLD. Well, well--a dream--no more!

EDITH. Did not Heaven speak to men in dreams of old?

HAROLD. Ay--well--of old. I tell thee what, my child; Thou hast misread this merry dream of thine, Taken the rifted pillars of the wood For smooth stone columns of the sanctuary, The shadows of a hundred fat dead deer For dead men's ghosts. True, that the battle-axe Was out of place; it should have been the bow.-- Come, thou shalt dream no more such dreams; I swear it, By mine own eyes--and these two sapphires--these Twin rubies, that are amulets against all The kisses of all kind of womankind In Flanders, till the sea shall roll me back To tumble at thy feet.

EDITH. That would but shame me, Rather than make me vain. The sea may roll Sand, shingle, sh.o.r.e-weed, not the living rock Which guards the land.

HAROLD. Except it be a soft one, And undereaten to the fall. Mine amulet ...

This last ... upon thine eyelids, to shut in A happier dream. Sleep, sleep, and thou shalt see My grayhounds fleeting like a beam of light, And hear my peregrine and her bells in heaven; And other bells on earth, which yet are heaven's; Guess what they be.

EDITH. He cannot guess who knows.

Farewell, my king.

HAROLD. Not yet, but then--my queen.

[_Exeunt_.

_Enter_ ALDWYTH _from the thicket_.

ALDWYTH. The kiss that charms thine eyelids into sleep, Will hold mine waking. Hate him? I could love him More, tenfold, than this fearful child can do; Griffyth I hated: why not hate the foe Of England? Griffyth when I saw him flee, Chased deer-like up his mountains, all the blood That should have only pulsed for Griffyth, beat For his pursuer. I love him or think I love him.

If he were King of England, I his queen, I might be sure of it. Nay, I do love him.-- She must be cloister'd somehow, lest the king Should yield his ward to Harold's will. What harm?

She hath but blood enough to live, not love.-- When Harold goes and Tostig, shall I play The craftier Tostig with him? fawn upon him?

Chime in with all? 'O thou more saint than king!'

And that were true enough. 'O blessed relics!'

'O Holy Peter!' If he found me thus, Harold might hate me; he is broad and honest, Breathing an easy gladness ... not like Aldwyth ...

For which I strangely love him. Should not England Love Aldwyth, if she stay the feuds that part The sons of G.o.dwin from the sons of Alfgar By such a marrying? Courage, n.o.ble Aldwyth!

Let all thy people bless thee!

Our wild Tostig, Edward hath made him Earl: he would be king:-- The dog that snapt the shadow, dropt the bone.-- I trust he may do well, this Gamel, whom I play upon, that he may play the note Whereat the dog shall howl and run, and Harold Hear the king's music, all alone with him, p.r.o.nounced his heir of England.

I see the goal and half the way to it.-- Peace-lover is our Harold for the sake Of England's wholeness--so--to shake the North With earthquake and disruption--some division-- Then fling mine own fair person in the gap A sacrifice to Harold, a peace-offering, A scape-goat marriage--all the sins of both The houses on mine head--then a fair life And bless the Queen of England.

MORCAR (_coming from the thicket_).

Art thou a.s.sured By this, that Harold loves but Edith?

ALDWYTH. Morcar!

Why creep'st thou like a timorous beast of prey Out of the bush by night?

MORCAR. I follow'd thee.

ALDWYTH. Follow my lead, and I will make thee earl.

MORCAR. What lead then?

ALDWYTH. Thou shalt flash it secretly Among the good Northumbrian folk, that I-- That Harold loves me--yea, and presently That I and Harold are betroth'd--and last-- Perchance that Harold wrongs me; tho' I would not That it should come to that.

MORCAR. I will both flash And thunder for thee.

ALDWYTH. I said 'secretly;'

It is the flash that murders, the poor thunder Never harm'd head.

MORCAR. But thunder may bring down That which the flash hath stricken.

ALDWYTH. Down with Tostig!

That first of all--And when doth Harold go?

MORCAR. To-morrow--first to Bosham, then to Flanders.

ALDWYTH. Not to come back till Tostig shall have shown And redden'd with his people's blood the teeth That shall be broken by us--yea, and thou Chair'd in his place. Good-night, and dream thyself Their chosen Earl.

[_Exit_ ALDWYTH.

MORCAR. Earl first, and after that Who knows I may not dream myself their king!

ACT II.

SCENE I.--SEASh.o.r.e. PONTHIEU. NIGHT.

HAROLD _and his_ MEN, _wrecked_.

HAROLD. Friends, in that last inhospitable plunge Our boat hath burst her ribs; but ours are whole; I have but bark'd my hands.

ATTENDANT. I dug mine into My old fast friend the sh.o.r.e, and clinging thus Felt the remorseless outdraught of the deep Haul like a great strong fellow at my legs, And then I rose and ran. The blast that came So suddenly hath fallen as suddenly-- Put thou the comet and this blast together--

HAROLD. Put thou thyself and mother-wit together.

Be not a fool!

_Enter_ FISHERMEN _with torches_, HAROLD _going up to one of them_, ROLF.

Wicked sea-will-o'-the-wisp!

Wolf of the sh.o.r.e! dog, with thy lying lights Thou hast betray'd us on these rocks of thine!

ROLF. Ay, but thou liest as loud as the black herring-pond behind thee. We be fishermen; I came to see after my nets.

HAROLD. To drag us into them. Fishermen? devils!

Who, while ye fish for men with your false fires, Let the great Devil fish for your own souls.

ROLF. Nay then, we be liker the blessed Apostles; _they_ were fishers of men, Father Jean says.

HAROLD. I had liefer that the fish had swallowed me, Like Jonah, than have known there were such devils.