The Atlantic Book of Modern Plays Part 67

(_The deep baying of the hound is heard again._)

GUNNAR They must be spies: yonder is news of them.

The wise hound knew them, and knew them again.

(_The baying is succeeded by one mid howl._)

Nay, nay!

Men treat thee sorely, Samm my fosterling: Even by death thou warnest--but it is meant That our two deaths will not be far apart.

RANNVEIG Think you that men are yonder?

GUNNAR Men are yonder.

RANNVEIG My son, my son, get on the rattling war-woof, The old grey shift of Odin, the hide of steel.

Handle the snake with edges, the fang of the rings.

GUNNAR (_going to the weapons by the high-seat_) There are not enough moments to get under That heavy fleece: an iron hat must serve.

HALLGERD O brave! O brave!--he'll dare them with no shield.

GUNNAR (_lifting down the great bill_) Let me but reach this haft, I shall get hold Of steel enough to fence me all about.

(_He shakes the bill above his head: a deep resonant humming follows._

_The dais door is thrown open, and_ ODDNY, ASTRID, _and_ STEINVOR _stream through in their night-clothes._)

STEINVOR The bill!

ODDNY The bill is singing!

ASTRID The bill sings!

GUNNAR (_shaking the bill again_) Ay, brain-biter, waken.... Awake and whisper Out of the throat of dread thy one brief burden.

Blind art thou, and thy kiss will do no choosing: Worn art thou to a hair's grey edge, a nothing That slips through all it finds, seeking more nothing.

There is a time, brain-biter, a time that comes When there shall be much quietness for thee: Men will be still about thee. I shall know.

It is not yet: the wind shall hiss at thee first.

Ahui! Leap up, brain-biter; sing again.

Sing! Sing thy verse of anger and feel my hands.

RANNVEIG Stand thou, my Gunnar, in the porch to meet them, And the great door shall keep thy back for thee.

GUNNAR I had a brother there. Brother, where are you....

HALLGERD Nay, nay. Get thou, my Gunnar, to the loft, Stand at the cas.e.m.e.nt, watch them how they come.

Arrows maybe could drop on them from there.

RANNVEIG 'Tis good: the woman's cunning for once is faithful.

GUNNAR (_turning again to the weapons_) 'Tis good, for now I hear a foot that stumbles Along the stable-roof against the hall.

My bow--where is my bow? Here with its arrows....

Go in again, you women on the dais, And listen at the cas.e.m.e.nt of the bower For men who cross the yard, and for their words.

ASTRID O Gunnar, we shall serve you.

(ASTRID, ODDNY, _and_ STEINVOR _go out by the dais door._)

RANNVEIG Hallgerd, come; We must shut fast the door, bar the great door, Or they'll be in on us and murder him.

HALLGERD Not I: I'd rather set the door wide open And watch my Gunnar kindling at the peril, Keeping them back--shaming men for ever Who could not enter at a gaping door.

RANNVEIG Bar the great door, I say, or I will bar it-- Door of the house you rule.... Son, son, command it.

GUNNAR (_as he ascends to the loft_) O spendthrift fire, do you waft up again?

Hallgerd, what riot of ruinous chance will sate you?...

Let the door stand, my mother: it is her way.

(_He looks out at the cas.e.m.e.nt._) Here's a red kirtle on the lower roof.

(_He thrusts with the bill through the cas.e.m.e.nt._)

A MAN'S VOICE (_far off_) Is Gunnar within?

THORGRIM THE EASTERLING'S VOICE (_near the cas.e.m.e.nt_) Find that out for yourselves: I am only sure his bill is yet within.

(_A noise of falling is heard._)

GUNNAR The Easterling from Sandgil might be dying-- He has gone down the roof, yet no feet helped him.

(_A shouting of many men is heard: GUNNAR starts back from the cas.e.m.e.nt as several arrows fly in._)

Now there are black flies biting before a storm.

I see men gathering beneath the cart-shed: Gizur the White and Geir the priest are there, And a lean whispering shape that should be Mord.

I have a sting for some one--

(_He looses an arrow: a distant cry follows._)

Valgard's voice....

A shaft of theirs is lying on the roof; I'll send it back, for if it should take root A hurt from their own spent and worthless weapon Would put a scorn upon their tale for ever.

(_He leans out for the arrow._)

RANNVEIG Do not, my son: rouse them not up again When they are slackening in their attack.

HALLGERD Shoot, shoot it out, and I'll come up to mock them.

GUNNAR (_loosing the arrow_) Hoia! Swerve down upon them, little hawk.

(_A shout follows._)