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ACT FIFTH.
A room in the palace at Nidaros. The entrance door is on the right; in front, on the same side, a window; to the left a smaller door. It is after night-fall. Paul Flida, Bård Bratte, and several of King Skule's principal followers are standing at the window and looking upward.
A Man-at-Arms.
How red it glows!
A Second.
It stretches over half the sky, like a flaming sword.
Bård Bratte.
Holy King Olaf, what bodes such a sign of dread?
An Old Vårbælg.
Assuredly it bodes a great chief's death.
Paul Flida.
Håkon's death, my good Vårbælgs. He is lying out in the fiord with his fleet; we may look for him in the town to-night. This time, 'tis our turn to conquer!
Bård Bratte.
Trust not to that; there is little heart in the host now.
