King Håkon lies out in the fiord, and may at any time be upon us here in Nidaros.
King Skule.
Strike him down for me! Slay him and the King-child.
Paul Flida.
You must be with us, my lord!
King Skule.
No, no, no,—you are surest of fortune and victory when I am not there.
Peter.
[Enters from the right; he is in armour.] The townsfolk are ill at ease; they flock together in great masses before the palace.
Bård Bratte.
Unless the King speak to them, they will desert him in the hour of need.
Peter.
Then must he speak to them. [At the door on the left.] Father! The Trönders, your trustiest subjects, will fall away from you if you give them not courage.
King Skule.
What said the skald?
Peter.
The skald?
King Skule.
The skald who died for my sake at Oslo. A man cannot give what he himself does not possess, he said.
