ASTRID.

O, Gunnar, we shall serve you.

_ASTRID, ODDNY, and STEINVOR go out by the das 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 of 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._ Now they run all together round one man: Now they murmur....

A VOICE. Close in, lift bows again: He has no shafts, for this is one of ours.

_Arrows fly in at the cas.e.m.e.nt._

GUNNAR.

Wife, here is something in my arm at last: The head is twisted--I must cut it clear.

_STEINVOR throws open the das door and rushes through with a high shriek._

STEINVOR.

Woman, let us out--help us out-- The burning comes--they are calling out for fire.

_She shrieks again. ODDNY and ASTRID, who have come behind her, m.u.f.fle her head in a kirtle and lift her._

ASTRID, _turning as they bear her out._ Fire suffuses only her cloudy brain: The flare she walks in is on the other side Of her shot eyes. We heard a pa.s.sionate voice, A shrill unwomanish voice that must be Mord, With "Let us burn him--burn him house and all."

And then a grave and trembling voice replied "Although my life hung on it, it shall not be."

Again the cunning fanatic voice went on "I say the house must burn above his head."

And the unlifted voice "Why wilt thou speak Of what none wishes: it shall never be."

_ASTRID and ODDNY disappear with STEINVOR._

GUNNAR.

To fight with honest men is worth much friendship: I'll strive with them again.

_He lifts his bow and loosens arrows at intervals while HALLGERD and RANNVEIG speak._

_HALLGERD, in an undertone to RANNVEIG, looking out meanwhile to the left._

Mother, come here-- Come here and hearken. Is there not a foot, A stealthy step, a fumbling on the latch Of the great door? They come, they come, old mother: Are you not blithe and thirsty, knowing they come And cannot be held back? Watch and be secret, To feel things pa.s.s that cannot be undone.

RANNVEIG.

It is the latch. Cry out, cry out for Gunnar, And bring him from the loft.

HALLGERD. O, never: For then they'd swarm upon him from the roof.

Leave him up there and he can bay both armies, While the whole dance goes merrily before us And we can warm our hearts at such a flare.

_RANNVEIG, turning both ways, while HALLGERD watches her gleefully._

Gunnar, my son, my son! What shall I do....

_ORMILD enters from the left, white and with her hand to her side, and walking as if she is sick._

HALLGERD.

Bah--here's a bleached a.s.sault....

RANNVEIG. O, lonesome thing, To be forgot and left in such a night.

What is there now--are terrors surging still?

ORMILD.

I know not what has gone: when the men came I hid in the far cowhouse. I think I swooned....

And then I followed the shadow. Who is dead?

RANNVEIG.

Go to the bower: the women will care for you.