The Three Heron's Feathers Part 9

_Colestin_. And thy oath, Lady?

_Queen_. My oath?

_Colestin_. Didst thou not swear before us all and in the sight of heaven that he who hurled his rival to the earth, not he who lay there shameful in defeat, might dare approach thee as thy lord and king?

_Queen_. But tell me, my dear friend, did he not conquer?

_Colestin_. What madness has so blurred events for thee?

_Queen_. I know he conquered, for he is here!

_Colestin_. Here indeed he is, but with what right?

_Queen_. The right that raised for him in that dark hour when the cruel wound gaped in his throat, a faithful servant to avenge him; a servant whose brave shout and lifted blade have taught me this one thing: high above the right there stands the sword, and high above the sword stands love!

_Colestin_. May this wisdom please the Omnipotent, and may he pity thee, and all of us!

_Queen_. It was not given to everyone to know it; but it has brought the King to me! Hark, do I hear a horn? How near it sounds! My King is coming! My King is here!

Scene 2.

_The Same_. King Witte, _the_ Chancellor _and other councillors and n.o.bles_. Hans Lorba.s.s _stands guard at the door, spear in hand, at ease._

_King_ [_embraces the_ Queen _and kisses her on the forehead. Comes forward with her, but turns back irritably_]. What do you want?

_Chancellor_. My lord, while thou didst tread the forest paths, following the hunt, a fierce onslaught of new trouble came swooping down upon our land.

_King_. Trouble, always trouble! Mouldy, gray and blear, it lives far longer than one's whole life! Must you, even in the daytime, din your night-song in my ears?

_Chancellor_. This time--

_King_ [_mocking_]. "This time "--I wager the state will crack in pieces! [_Turning to the_ Queen.] If they had naught at which to fear, I should have naught at which to laugh!

_Queen_. Dear one--!

_King_. Hush! It makes me glow with anger, only to look upon these gray countenances, gloomy as the grave, full of foreboding, heavy with woes, and yet with that little glint of malice in their half-lowered lids.

Must I suck in these complaints that fall drop by drop upon me? I might lay about me recklessly--but what am I to dare it?

_Queen_. All art thou, all darest thou, all hearts bow before thee!

Canst thou not guess their dumb entreaties, not understand their timid longings? Look, they give thee so much, they give with open hands; their love enfolds thee, blooms everywhere for thee to pluck! Go down among them, then, step into their hearts, and speak, I beg thee, graciously and kindly.

_King_ [_softened_]. I will try, thanks to thee! Speak, as thou knowest me: why does this anger and this curse fall daily and hourly over me?

My friends, mislike me not for my impatience, for one thing I know right well, that I stand deeply in your debt. And now, speak!

_Chancellor_. My lord, I speak--not trembling, for long necessity has wonted us to terrors as to daily bread--of the fate which I have long seen approaching, and which now stands thirsting for blood before us.

Duke Widwolf--

King [_starting_]. Duke Widwolf!

_Chancellor_. Is mustering an army!

King [_feigning calmness_]. What then?

_Chancellor_. He makes his boast that when the ice on the northern sea has turned to sheeted foam, he will descend with full a hundred ships and fall upon us like an avenging spirit.

_King_. The avenging spirit is a worthy part for him to play.

_Chancellor_. Still thou knowest this once he serves a righteous cause.

_King_. What sayest thou?

_Chancellor_. Is not this realm, O King, forfeit to him as a reward of victory?

_King_. May the word choke thee! As a reward of victory? Oh, stands it so with you, my lords? Do you stare at me? What means the scorn that lurks in your eyes? Have I been here too long? Do you already rue your act?

_Chancellor_. We rue it not, my King!

_King_. Say yes, say yes! Why so much pains with one who lay in the dust, whom you so mercifully raised up that everyone might value me as he chose, not as he must? Was it that I should fawn upon you, stroke and caress and flatter you, and die, instead of that one death I owed you, a thousand daily deaths?

_Chancellor_. Thou hast seen no hatred in us. A reflection of thine own feeling has deluded thee.

_Colestin_. And if thou hast heard the word guilt, it was but thus: let me be guilty with thee! [Queen _nods gratefully to him._]

_King_. Very fine! Quite beautiful! Accept my thanks! Hans! Come here and tell me what thou sayest to all this.

_Hans Lorba.s.s_ [_comes forward boldly_]. Lord Chancellor and Lord House Marshal, you n.o.bles, councillors, and wise men all, who let yourselves be plagued with doubts like flea-bites,--if you permit it I will say one thing to you: between sin and punishment, between right and wrong, between hate and love, and good and bad, between sand and sea, and swamp and stone, between flesh of women and dead men's bones, between desire and possession, between field and furrow,--he goes, a man of men, straight through,--looking to neither right nor left!

_King_ [_with a smile of satisfaction_]. Good words, for which we shall reward him. Yes, if you all thought with him, then I might bravely, out of the fulness of-- Enough! We each do what befits us and what it was decreed that we should do. We can no more. Time came upon us undesired and unasked,--even to-day. Each of us drags listlessly our weight of humanity unto the grave. Farewell my lords.... Lay by your letters. I will prove, as it stands I will-- Yes, and give your wisdom air, my dear friends, for it grows musty! [Colestin, _the_ Chancellor, _and the other n.o.bles go out._] Hans, stay!

_King_. Well, my wife?

_Queen_. Thou lookest at me so earnestly.

_King_. I am smiling.

_Queen_. Yet sorrow looks from all thy features. My friend, I fear that thou canst never learn to yield thyself up to this country.

_King_. Yield thyself, thou sayest. Belie thyself,--it is the same. To me it is a polished farce, at which I play and play and play myself quite out, entangled sleepily in fog and mist. But sometimes comes a wandering south wind, and plays faintly with its wings upon my wearied soul, striking vague and half-audible dream tones.

_Queen_. Thou torturest thyself.

_King_. And thee, my wife,--forgive! I look at thee and know that thou hast long hung in imploring anguish on my neck; it shames me, for see, I love thee!

_Queen_ [_repeats half dreamily_]. I love thee.

_The Voice of the Young Prince_. Papa.

_King_. Art thou still awake, my son?