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Paul Flida.
They are swarming in thousands down over the Ekeberg.
King Skule.
Sound the call to arms! Sound, sound! Give counsel; where shall we meet them?
Paul Flida.
All the churches stand open for us.
King Skule.
'Tis of the Birchlegs I ask?
Paul Flida.
For them all the bridges stand open.
King Skule.
Unhappy man, what have you done
Paul Flida.
Obeyed my King!
King Skule.
My son! My son! Woe is me; I have lost your kingdom!
Peter.
No, you will conquer! So great a king's-thought cannot die!
King Skule.
Peace, peace! [Horns and shouts are heard, nearer at hand.] To horse! To arms! More is here at stake than the life and death of men!
[Rushes out by the back; the others follow
him.
