Bård Bratte.
You have good store of cunning, King Skule. Your foemen have never warning ere you fall upon them, and you are ever there where they least await you.
Paul Flida.
’Tis therefore that the Birchlegs call us Vårbælgs.[[38]]
King Skule.
Others say Vargbælgs; but this I swear, that when next we meet, the Birchlegs shall learn how hard it is to turn such Wolf-skins inside out.
Bård Bratte.
With their good will shall we never meet-’twill be a chase the whole country round.
King Skule.
Ay, that it shall be. First we must purge Viken, and make sure of all these eastward parts; then will we get our ships together, and sail round the Naze and up the coast to Nidaros.