[Rushes towards the back.
Paul Flida.
[Enters and cries:] The hour is upon us, King Skule!
King Skule.
[Bewildered.] The Birchlegs! King Håkon’s host! Where are they?
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.