No More Learning

Hast murder'd thine own guest, the son of Orm,
Gamel, at thine own hearth.

TOSTIG. The slow, fat fool!
He drawl'd and prated so, I smote him suddenly,
I knew not what I did. He held with Morcar. --
I hate myself for all things that I do.

HAROLD. And Morcar holds with us. Come back with him.
Know what thou dost; and we may find for thee,
So thou be chasten'd by thy banishment,
Some easier earldom.

TOSTIG. What for Norway then?
He looks for land among us, he and his.

HAROLD. Seven feet of English land, or something more,
Seeing he is a giant.

TOSTIG. That is noble!
That sounds of Godwin.

HAROLD. Come thou back, and be
Once more a son of Godwin.

TOSTIG (_turns away_). O brother, brother,
O Harold--

HAROLD (_laying his hand on_ TOSTIG'S _shoulder_).
Nay then, come thou back to us!

TOSTIG (_after a pause turning to him_). Never
shall any man say that I, that Tostig
Conjured the mightier Harold from his North
To do the battle for me here in England,
Then left him for the meaner! thee! --
Thou hast no passion for the House of Godwin--
Thou hast but cared to make thyself a king--
Thou hast sold me for a cry. --
Thou gavest thy voice against me in the Council--
I hate thee, and despise thee, and defy thee.
Farewell for ever!
[_Exit_.

HAROLD. On to Stamford-bridge!



SCENE III.


AFTER THE BATTLE OF STAMFORD-BRIDGE. BANQUET.

HAROLD _and_ ALDWYTH. GURTH, LEOFWIN, MORCAR, EDWIN,
_and other_ EARLS _and_ THANES.


VOICES. Hail! Harold! Aldwyth! hail, bridegroom and bride!

ALDWYTH (_talking with_ HAROLD).
Answer them thou!
Is this our marriage-banquet? Would the wines
Of wedding had been dash'd into the cups
Of victory, and our marriage and thy glory
Been drunk together! these poor hands but sew,
Spin, broider--would that they were man's to have held
The battle-axe by thee!

HAROLD. There _was_ a moment
When being forced aloof from all my guard,
And striking at Hardrada and his madmen
I had wish'd for any weapon.

ALDWYTH. Why art thou sad?

HAROLD. I have lost the boy who play'd at ball with me,
With whom I fought another fight than this
Of Stamford-bridge.

ALDWYTH. Ay! ay! thy victories
Over our own poor Wales, when at thy side
He conquer'd with thee.

HAROLD. No--the childish fist
That cannot strike again.

ALDWYTH. Thou art too kindly.
Why didst thou let so many Norsemen hence?
Thy fierce forekings had clench'd their pirate hides
To the bleak church doors, like kites upon a barn.

HAROLD. Is there so great a need to tell thee why?

ALDWYTH. Yea, am I not thy wife?

VOICES. Hail, Harold, Aldwyth!
Bridegroom and bride!

ALDWYTH. Answer them! [_To_ HAROLD.

HAROLD (_to all_). Earls and Thanes!
Full thanks for your fair greeting of my bride!
Earls, Thanes, and all our countrymen! the day,
Our day beside the Derwent will not shine
Less than a star among the goldenest hours
Of Alfred, or of Edward his great son,
Or Athelstan, or English Ironside
Who fought with Knut, or Knut who coming Dane
Died English. Every man about his king
Fought like a king; the king like his own man,
No better; one for all, and all for one,
One soul! and therefore have we shatter'd back
The hugest wave from Norseland ever yet
Surged on us, and our battle-axes broken
The Raven's wing, and dumb'd his carrion croak
From the gray sea for ever. Many are gone--
Drink to the dead who died for us, the living
Who fought and would have died, but happier lived,
If happier be to live; they both have life
In the large mouth of England, till _her_ voice
Die with the world. Hail--hail!

MORCAR. May all invaders perish like Hardrada!
All traitors fail like Tostig. [_All drink but_ HAROLD.

ALDWYTH. Thy cup's full!

HAROLD. I saw the hand of Tostig cover it.
Our dear, dead, traitor-brother, Tostig, him
Reverently we buried. Friends, had I been here,
Without too large self-lauding I must hold
The sequel had been other than his league
With Norway, and this battle. Peace be with him!
He was not of the worst. If there be those
At banquet in this hall, and hearing me--
For there be those I fear who prick'd the lion
To make him spring, that sight of Danish blood
Might serve an end not English--peace with them
Likewise, if they can be at peace with what
God gave us to divide us from the wolf!

ALDWYTH (_aside to_ HAROLD).
Make not our Morcar sullen: it is not wise.

HAROLD. Hail to the living who fought, the dead who fell!

VOICES. Hail, hail!

FIRST THANE. How ran that answer which King Harold gave
To his dead namesake, when he ask'd for England?

LEOFWIN. 'Seven feet of English earth, or something more,
Seeing he is a giant! '

FIRST THANE. Then for the bastard
Six feet and nothing more!

LEOFWIN. Ay, but belike
Thou hast not learnt his measure.

FIRST THANE. By St. Edmund
I over-measure him. Sound sleep to the man
Here by dead Norway without dream or dawn!

SECOND THANE. What is he bragging still that he will come
To thrust our Harold's throne from under him?
My nurse would tell me of a molehill crying
To a mountain 'Stand aside and room for me! '

FIRST THANE. Let him come! let him come.
Here's to him, sink or swim! [_Drinks_.

SECOND THANE. God sink him!

FIRST THANE. Cannot hands which had the strength
To shove that stranded iceberg off our shores,
And send the shatter'd North again to sea,
Scuttle his cockle-shell? What's Brunanburg
To Stamford-bridge? a war-crash, and so hard,
So loud, that, by St. Dunstan, old St. Thor--
By God, we thought him dead--but our old Thor
Heard his own thunder again, and woke and came
Among us again, and mark'd the sons of those
Who made this Britain England, break the North:

Mark'd how the war-axe swang,
Heard how the war-horn sang,
Mark'd how the spear-head sprang,
Heard how the shield-wall rang,
Iron on iron clang,
Anvil on hammer bang--

SECOND THANE. Hammer on anvil, hammer on anvil. Old dog,
Thou art drunk, old dog!

FIRST THANE. Too drunk to fight with thee!

SECOND THANE. Fight thou with thine own double, not with me,
Keep that for Norman William!

FIRST THANE. Down with William!

THIRD THANE. The washerwoman's brat!

FOURTH THANE. The tanner's bastard!

FIFTH THANE.
The Falaise byblow!

[_Enter a_ THANE, _from Pevensey, spattered with mud_.

HAROLD. Ay, but what late guest,
As haggard as a fast of forty days,
And caked and plaster'd with a hundred mires,
Hath stumbled on our cups?

THANE _from Pevensey_. My lord the King!
William the Norman, for the wind had changed--

HAROLD. I felt it in the middle of that fierce fight
At Stamford-bridge. William hath landed, ha?

THANE _from Pevensey_. Landed at Pevensey--I am from Pevensey--
Hath wasted all the land at Pevensey--
Hath harried mine own cattle--God confound him!
I have ridden night and day from Pevensey--
A thousand ships--a hundred thousand men--
Thousands of horses, like as many lions
Neighing and roaring as they leapt to land--

HAROLD. How oft in coming hast thou broken bread?

THANE _from Pevensey_.
Some thrice, or so.

HAROLD. Bring not thy hollowness
On our full feast. Famine is fear, were it but
Of being starved. Sit down, sit down, and eat,
And, when again red-blooded, speak again;
(_Aside_. ) The men that guarded England to the South
Were scatter'd to the harvest. . . . No power mine
To hold their force together. . . . Many are fallen
At Stamford-bridge . . . the people stupid-sure
Sleep like their swine . . . in South and North at once
I could not be.
(_Aloud_. ) Gurth, Leofwin, Morcar, Edwin!
(_Pointing to the revellers_. )
The curse of England! these are drown'd in wassail,
And cannot see the world but thro' their wines!
Leave them! and thee too, Aldwyth, must I leave--
Harsh is the news! hard is our honeymoon!
Thy pardon. (_Turning round to his_ ATTENDANTS. )
Break the banquet up . . . Ye four!
And thou, my carrier-pigeon of black news,
Cram thy crop full, but come when thou art call'd.

[_Exit_ HAROLD.




ACT V.


SCENE I. --A TENT ON A MOUND, FROM WHICH CAN BE SEEN THE FIELD OF
SENLAC.

HAROLD, _sitting; by him standing_ HUGH MARGOT _the Monk_, GURTH,
LEOFWIN,


HAROLD. Refer my cause, my crown to Rome! . . .
The wolf
Mudded the brook and predetermined all.
Monk,
Thou hast said thy say, and had my constant 'No'
For all but instant battle. I hear no more.

MARGOT. Hear me again--for the last time. Arise,
Scatter thy people home, descend the hill,
Lay hands of full allegiance in thy Lord's
And crave his mercy, for the Holy Father
Hath given this realm of England to the Norman.

HAROLD. Then for the last time, monk, I ask again
When had the Lateran and the Holy Father
To do with England's choice of her own king?

MARGOT. Earl, the first Christian Caesar drew to the East
To leave the Pope dominion in the West
He gave him all the kingdoms of the West.

HAROLD. So! --did he? --Earl--I have a mind to play
The William with thine eyesight and thy tongue.
Earl--ay--thou art but a messenger of William.
I am weary--go: make me not wroth with thee!

MARGOT. Mock-king, I am the messenger of God,
His Norman Daniel! Mene, Mene, Tekel!
Is thy wrath Hell, that I should spare to cry,
Yon heaven is wroth with _thee? _ Hear me again!
Our Saints have moved the Church that moves the world,
And all the Heavens and very God: they heard--
They know King Edward's promise and thine--thine.

HAROLD. Should they not know free England crowns herself?
Not know that he nor I had power to promise?
Not know that Edward cancell'd his own promise?
And for my part therein--Back to that juggler,
[_Rising_.
Tell him the saints are nobler than he dreams,
Tell him that God is nobler than the Saints,
And tell him we stand arm'd on Senlac Hill,
And bide the doom of God.

MARGOT. Hear it thro' me.
The realm for which thou art forsworn is cursed,
The babe enwomb'd and at the breast is cursed,
The corpse thou whelmest with thine earth is cursed,
The soul who fighteth on thy side is cursed,
The seed thou sowest in thy field is cursed,
The steer wherewith thou plowest thy field is cursed,
The fowl that fleeth o'er thy field is cursed,
And thou, usurper, liar--

HAROLD. Out, beast monk!
[_Lifting his hand to strike him_. GURTH _stops the blow_.
I ever hated monks.

MARGOT. I am but a voice
Among you: murder, martyr me if ye will--

HAROLD. Thanks, Gurth! The simple, silent, selfless man
Is worth a world of tonguesters. (_To_ MARGOT. ) Get thee gone!
He means the thing he says. See him out safe!

LEOFWIN. He hath blown himself as red as fire with curses.
An honest fool! Follow me, honest fool,
But if thou blurt thy curse among our folk,
I know not--I may give that egg-bald head
The tap that silences.

HAROLD. See him out safe.
[_Exeunt_ LEOFWIN _and_ MARGOT.

GURTH. Thou hast lost thine even temper, brother Harold!

HAROLD. Gurth, when I past by Waltham, my foundation
For men who serve the neighbour, not themselves,
I cast me down prone, praying; and, when I rose,
They told me that the Holy Rood had lean'd
And bow'd above me; whether that which held it
Had weaken'd, and the Rood itself were bound
To that necessity which binds us down;
Whether it bow'd at all but in their fancy;
Or if it bow'd, whether it symbol'd ruin
Or glory, who shall tell? but they were sad,
And somewhat sadden'd me.

GURTH. Yet if a fear,
Or shadow of a fear, lest the strange Saints
By whom thou swarest, should have power to balk
Thy puissance in this fight with him, who made
And heard thee swear--brother--_I_ have not sworn--
If the king fall, may not the kingdom fall?
But if I fall, I fall, and thou art king;
And, if I win, I win, and thou art king;
Draw thou to London, there make strength to breast
Whatever chance, but leave this day to me.

LEOFWIN (_entering_). And waste the land about thee as thou goest,
And be thy hand as winter on the field,
To leave the foe no forage.

HAROLD. Noble Gurth!
Best son of Godwin! If I fall, I fall--
The doom of God! How should the people fight
When the king flies? And, Leofwin, art thou mad?
How should the King of England waste the fields
Of England, his own people? --No glance yet
Of the Northumbrian helmet on the heath?

LEOFWIN. No, but a shoal of wives upon the heath,
And someone saw thy willy-nilly nun
Vying a tress against our golden fern.

HAROLD. Vying a tear with our cold dews, a sigh
With these low-moaning heavens. Let her be fetch'd.
We have parted from our wife without reproach,
Tho' we have dived thro' all her practices;
And that is well.

LEOFWIN. I saw her even now:
She hath not left us.

HAROLD. Nought of Morcar then?

GURTH. Nor seen, nor heard; thine, William's or his own
As wind blows, or tide flows: belike he watches,
If this war-storm in one of its rough rolls
Wash up that old crown of Northumberland.

HAROLD. I married her for Morcar--a sin against
The truth of love. Evil for good, it seems,
Is oft as childless of the good as evil
For evil.

LEOFWIN. Good for good hath borne at times
A bastard false as William.

HAROLD. Ay, if Wisdom
Pair'd not with Good. But I am somewhat worn,
A snatch of sleep were like the peace of God.
Gurth, Leofwin, go once more about the hill--
What did the dead man call it--Sanguelac,
The lake of blood?

LEOFWIN. A lake that dips in William
As well as Harold.

HAROLD. Like enough. I have seen
The trenches dug, the palisades uprear'd
And wattled thick with ash and willow-wands;
Yea, wrought at them myself. Go round once more;
See all be sound and whole. No Norman horse
Can shatter England, standing shield by shield;
Tell that again to all.

GURTH. I will, good brother.

HAROLD. Our guardsman hath but toil'd his hand and foot,
I hand, foot, heart and head. Some wine!
(_One pours wine into a goblet which he hands to_ HAROLD. )
Too much!
What? we must use our battle-axe to-day.
Our guardsmen have slept well, since we came in?

LEOFWIN. Ay, slept and snored. Your second-sighted man
That scared the dying conscience of the king,
Misheard their snores for groans. They are up again
And chanting that old song of Brunanburg
Where England conquer'd.

HAROLD. That is well. The Norman,
What is he doing?

LEOFWIN. Praying for Normandy;
Our scouts have heard the tinkle of their bells.

HAROLD. And our old songs are prayers for England too!
But by all Saints--

LEOFWIN. Barring the Norman!

HAROLD. Nay,
Were the great trumpet blowing doomsday dawn,
I needs must rest. Call when the Norman moves--

[_Exeunt all, but_ HAROLD.

No horse--thousands of horses--our shield wall--
Wall--break it not--break not--break-- [_Sleeps_.

VISION OF EDWARD. Son Harold, I thy king, who came before
To tell thee thou shouldst win at Stamford-bridge,
Come yet once more, from where I am at peace,
Because I loved thee in my mortal day,
To tell thee them shalt die on Senlac hill--
Sanguelac!

VISION OF WULFNOTH. O brother, from my ghastly oubliette
I send my voice across the narrow seas--
No more, no more, dear brother, nevermore--
Sanguelac!

VISION OF TOSTIG. O brother, most unbrotherlike to me,
Thou gavest thy voice against me in my life,
I give my voice against thee from the grave--
Sanguelac!

VISION OF NORMAN SAINTS. O hapless Harold!
King but for an hour!
Thou swarest falsely by our blessed bones,
We give our voice against thee out of heaven!
Sanguelac! Sanguelac! The arrow! the arrow!

HAROLD (_starting up, battle-axe in hand_. ) Away!
My battle-axe against your voices. Peace!
The king's last word--'the arrow! ' I shall die--
I die for England then, who lived for England--
What nobler? men must die.
I cannot fall into a falser world--
I have done no man wrong. Tostig, poor brother,
Art _thou_ so anger'd?
Fain had I kept thine earldom in thy hands
Save for thy wild and violent will that wrench'd
All hearts of freemen from thee. I could do
No other than this way advise the king
Against the race of Godwin. Is it possible
That mortal men should bear their earthly heats
Into yon bloodless world, and threaten us thence
Unschool'd of Death? Thus then thou art revenged--
I left our England naked to the South
To meet thee in the North. The Norseman's raid
Hath helpt the Norman, and the race of Godwin
Hath ruin'd Godwin. No--our waking thoughts
Suffer a stormless shipwreck in the pools
Of sullen slumber, and arise again
Disjointed: only dreams--where mine own self
Takes part against myself! Why? for a spark
Of self-disdain born in me when I sware
Falsely to him, the falser Norman, over
His gilded ark of mummy-saints, by whom
I knew not that I sware,--not for myself--
For England--yet not wholly--

_Enter_ EDITH.

Edith, Edith,
Get thou into thy cloister as the king
Will'd it: be safe: the perjury-mongering Count
Hath made too good an use of Holy Church
To break her close! There the great God of truth
Fill all thine hours with peace! --A lying devil
Hath haunted me--mine oath--my wife--I fain
Had made my marriage not a lie; I could not:
Thou art my bride! and thou in after years
Praying perchance for this poor soul of mine
In cold, white cells beneath an icy moon--
This memory to thee! --and this to England,
My legacy of war against the Pope
From child to child, from Pope to Pope, from age to age,
Till the sea wash her level with her shores,
Or till the Pope be Christ's.

_Enter_ ALDWYTH.

ALDWYTH (_to_ EDITH). Away from him!

EDITH. I will. . . . I have not spoken to the king
One word; and one I must. Farewell! [_Going_.

HAROLD. Not yet.
Stay.

EDITH. To what use?

HAROLD. The king commands thee, woman!
(_To_ ALDWYTH. )
Have thy two brethren sent their forces in?

ALDWYTH. Nay, I fear not.

HAROLD. Then there's no force in thee!
Thou didst possess thyself of Edward's ear
To part me from the woman that I loved!
Thou didst arouse the fierce Northumbrians!
Thou hast been false to England and to me! --
As . . . in some sort . . . I have been false to thee.
Leave me. No more--Pardon on both sides--Go!

ALDWYTH. Alas, my lord, I loved thee.

HAROLD (_bitterly_). With a love
Passing thy love for Griffyth! wherefore now
Obey my first and last commandment. Go!