University of Virginia Library

Scene I.

A room on the northern bank of the Thames, overlooking the Danish fleet.
Enter Canute.
Canute.
Sunset! The air is ominous. I muse
On Danish majesty, my splendid fleet,
England's great city-river, and my Ravens
Flapping across; yet by King Edmund's favour
I winter in the Thames.
[Enter Thororin.]
O Thororin,
Be near me, play to me; I am beset
By terrible temptations.

Thororin.
English priests
Should teach you their religion; or your lady,
Your Christian queen, can she not give instruction,
And settle you in conduct? We are friends,
Love binds us; she is satisfied to listen
Hour after hour to the triumphant verse
I sang when you were pagan. Look at her!
[Emma and Edric are seen landing.]
She gives her hand to Streona. Confess
Your misery to that fine, goading face,
And it will cure despondency.

[Thororin withdraws as Emma and Edric approach.]
Canute.
He hurts
Deep, deep,—for he has visions, and should know
That I was crying out in mortal pain
For divination, insight, such as poets
Should draw from open gazing on the world.
What means my queen? Although her lips are rigid,
A stormy secret plays about her brows,
And, passing Edric's hand, she speeds to me,
Urgent, despotic.

Emma.
King of England, hail!
My all-possessing, worshipful, young lord.
Ah, ah, a regal flush! Wilt thou to London?
It is an air I love. Come, a behaviour
Less frank in its disclosures; feign surprise!

Canute.
What means this greeting? Edmund is not dead?

Emma.
All, all his lands are joined this day to yours;
I give you half a kingdom, for you took me
Without a dowry.

Canute.
Did he die by nature?
His cheek was withered when I saw him last;
Six battles had he fought, and swept like fire
Now here, now there, calling slow country-folk
To gather to his wars. A noble ruler!
[To Edric.]
He died at peace,—with housel?

Edric.
What a question!
When I sit down to feast, I know a sheep
Has bled for my repast.

Canute
[seizing Edric].
What, you have slain
Your very lord, who pardoned you your vileness,
Who trusted you?

Edric.
Ay, ay, he was a fool;
He trusted everybody, even you;
He treated you like one of the old stock,
Who knew the strength of covenant.
[Canute relaxes his hold.]
We settled
At Olney I should do this bit of work;
And now perform your part; the Mercian earldom,
And that respect you pay a man who serves
At some great crisis!

Canute.
Caitiff, did I give you
A word or a command that day I swore?

Edric.
The solemn oaths were all for Edmund's ears;
With me connivance was enough. Come, come,
No temper! There is sunset on the towers
Of London; all those gilded battlements
Are yours, and no suspicion: in a fit
Of lunacy my lad, while bedfellow
To his good uncle, stabbed him as he slept.
The childish actor had been ably prompted,
And terror made him perfect at the art;
His guilt is palpable. He roams the fields,
A jabbering little devil, full of secrets
To make Beelzebub an eaves-dropper.
[Aside.]
I waste my breath; a change is on his features.
I know this quiet; it arrests the sense,
Like the appeasing movement of a storm,
That paralyses, ere it devastate.
Best let her feel its fury.
[Turns to Emma, who remains breathlessly staring at Canute.]
'Tis a sickness
Needs the domestic touch; I take my leave.
When it is opportune recall my service,
Urge my desert.

Canute.
I fear to deal the blow,
And make a lightning end. I would call forth
My feasting jarls—they would bespatter him
With such disgraces, ridicule, and flaunts,
That he would die, unstruck, of countless gibes,
And feel by prophecy his corpse would serve
For next day's merriment.
[Seizing Edric suddenly.]
Thou hast offended
Beyond the bounds of nature, and the darkness
Shall never cover thee; for thee no grave,
But infinite exposure in the sun;
Corruption blazon thee the thing thou art,
Abhorred and dissolute!

[Canute strangles Edric, flings his body into the stream, and gazes out.]
Emma.
To look at it
The male's fierce nature in its nakedness,
With passions that dumb creatures in their lairs
Conceive in solitude! How break it in?
Wild as the waters that engulfed the world,
It rages in its hour of dominance,
And all familiar outlines are destroyed;
There is no sky, no comfort, no relief,
No streak in the great wilderness. O God,
Thou gavest us our beauty and our guile
To win these creatures. I will try a touch,—
'Tis softer than the voice, more powerful.

Canute.
I teem with memory. Old Gorm would glare
Above his cup—Whose hand is this?

Emma.
My king,
You are a murderer.

Canute.
I slew him not,
The great lord Edmund; if indeed I slew,
I loved his kingdom, loved his people, all
The other side, the hills beyond the stream;
I loved him yea, I hugged him to my heart,
I felt him royal.

Emma.
O Canute, you murdered
The faithful Edric.

Canute.
God what I have done
Is bloody round my brain; I cannot see.
I'm dazed to find my wife, and this close room
Behind me, when I leave the boundless wind,
And my far childhood.

Emma.
Spend your senseless wrath
On me, your Emma, who exalted you
To your most dear ambition. Yet you slew
The faithful servant who fulfilled the deed.

Canute.
Did you not lay a hand on me and weep?

Emma.
He love'd you truly—as your queen doth love,
And therefore I must weep him. Did you fear
Alfred, my eldest born of Ethelred,
I would myself with my own hands destroy
His sight, his life, whatever you should crave;
For all that derogates from your estate
Is fitted for destruction.

Canute
[unheeding].
Is it thus
That Hell begins? and can God make damnation
With just a little shifting of the days?
When me the live hour brings its transient tale,
I look it in the face: but shall the past
Ride down and meet me on the open plain?
Can nothing grow obscure,—the mighty figure,
Erect and kindly,—the reproachful glance
On skulking Edric? Am I forced to feel
Again the pressure of the great, warm hands,
And mutter words of feigning amity?
Nay, crowd the English people on the bank,
Unveil the hypocrite, call me by names
Shall strip me bare of majesty—a coward,
A cunning, sleek barbarian. Supreme
Above me thou shalt sit a king and judge—
Ah, I bethink me there are tears and prayers,
And drops of blood fall from the crucifix,
Or the great agony would overcome,
And I should fail of penitence; it works
Like death within me.

Emma.
Desolate, abandoned!
Oh, I must rally him.—My dearest lord,
Do not grow pale as one in guiltiness.
Never till now have I beheld you blench.
The deed was my conception; you are free.
I could not suffer you a demi-king,
Nor make you present of a demi-heir;
Therefore I ordered Edmund should be slain;
I gave command upon our marriage day,
And Edric nodded.

Canute
[unheeling].
I have seen a fox
Steal round a yard to snatch; a prowling dog
Creep for a bone. Ah, Edric, you and I
Are mates, the fiends will couple us in hell,
To hunt down the unwary. I repent
I plunged you in the cold;—my flaming cheek
Must bear the shame, while cool oblivion
Washes you o'er and o'er.

Emma.
He sickens me
With his dull raving.—My exceeding love
Moved me to hint to Edric . . .

Canute
[leaping to the window].
Has he sunk?
The moon has spread a sheet upon the stream,
And hidden all that's fatal. Treachery—
Ay, here, and my own act.

Emma.
He is intent
On self-reproach and bitterness.

Canute.
The stars
Have steadfast faces, and prefix our doom;
It is the wandering comets lead astray
With unsteered courses. What is permanent
Is god-like, and the shifty things a flaw
And a discredit to the universe.
Heaven hath so honoured man that he can bring
His word to pass, and make a feeble promise,
A breath, and an endeavour, more assured
Than rise or set of sun. That majesty
Being disowned, there is no use in kings,
No purpose to accomplish.
[Turning to Emma.]
Edmund's sons
Shall have their portion; I can make amends.
But that's not large enough! I would be rid
Of degradation, of the filching nature,
The vilenéss in the blood.

Emma
[aside].
God pardon me!
Until I hear that Edmund's babes are slain,
I have no strength for travail.—Oh, I faint.
'Twas thoughtless 'fore a woman in my state
To hack and murder. You are terrible;
Your wrath, I fear, has cost your land an heir.
For him, for you, I sinned. Canute, I die;
Pardon and pray for me.

Canute.
She's deadly white.
O Lady, have I hurt you?

Emma.
Ay, to death.
A mailed voice!—I am used to minstrel's tones;
And the reproach cut. I shall surely die
Barren and cursed, but on my failing knees
I pray you nurse these children as your own,
Adopt them both, and for your unborn babe
Harbour no guilty thought.

Canute.
You madden me.
Emma, you cannot mean—

Emma.
Nay, give my child
A third of your possessions, be untrue
To your great, bridal oath. What is a woman,
A mother, that your word to her should bind,
Though sealed with bridegroom's kisses. At my knees
You swore such things—a promise that the fruit
Of our embrace should own as heritage
All English royalties. Be false, dear king,
Add broken vows to deeds of faithlessness,
And take advantage of my sex; all men
Write truth to wives and maidens on a tablet
Of running water. They are Edmund's sons;
And you repent.

Canute.
My lot is tied to yours,
Fell tigress, temptress. Would you have your den
Bloody with slaughtered babes?

Emma.
I cannot bear
The sight of blood, the talk of butchery.
These children, let me never hear their names;
But bring me word they are not in the land.
We have removed the trouble of two kings;
No rival princes should encumber us;
For if you hold to the legitimate
And lawful issue, there are royal lads,
The two I pushed back from the throne to set
My young usurper there. I'd rather see
The boys I bore, than these step-grandchildren,
Mounting my daïs-steps. I must entreat
You keep good faith with me.

Canute.
You hold me bound
To that wild oath?

Emma.
Your lips were hot and ready;
Your hands embraced my fingers. Ah, but then
I had not stooped from my great widowhood.
I was so amorous, I forgot my lover
Was not of gentle mould; like kingly Edmund,
I trusted the barbarian. Ay, strike me!
Your viking humour is not void of charm.
King Ethelred was sorry oftentimes,
Exceeding sorry, he had bribed the Danes;
A while ago you brought him to my mind;
Do not be sorry. . .

Canute.
Have you no remorse?

Emma.
That you are England's king? Impossible!
Go, and prevent mischance. Remove these babes,
All will be well.

Canute.
They never shall be slain,
But harboured safely where I cannot lay
My cruel hands about them. Over-sea,
Olaf, my brother, shall be foster nurse;
You shall not look on them [starting up].
I will give orders
They presently set sail.

Emma
[intercepting him].
King Edmund's widow
May trust your tenderness; I bow a victim
To your most killing hate. How opportune
The river flows beneath! I cannot live,
Yet, queenly, choose the manner of my death.
Lift me, my lord, once more into your arms,
Then fling me from you.

[He pushes her away, and she falls.]
Canute.
God! no more! temptation!
Let me not touch you, for my pulses dance
With murderous fever. All my promises
I will perform, and then I shall breathe free
To pour on you the measure of my hate,
To punish, to divorce you.

[Exit.]
Emma.
Gone His wrath
Has left me smitten—such huge, manly rage;
I'm shaken to the heart. So it should be.
One cannot love a man whose hands show not
As clearly they were made to deal stout blows,
As his smooth lips for kisses' tender use.
But yet my child,—he should not peril him,—
And, oh, the hatred in his quivering breath
As he forsook me. I have suffered treatment
Worthy of lamentation, and a sea
Heaves at my bosom; but I loose no weeping.
Without him all is tearless, desperate;
I have a headlong wish to die. Alas!
We cannot look each other in the face,
When there is jar between us; so accursed
Are quarrels of true love. I do not doubt
But my inextricable charm will keep
This boy in adoration. I will rest me
Upon our marriage-bed, on the dear couch,
Till I have strength, and beauty soothed enough
Simply to rise and draw him to my feet.

[Exit.]